“Oh, do be sensible!—you’re not that much of a fool;—because I’ve got him, or he’s got me, whichever you like. Don’t you think it’s bad for him?”
“It might be worse,” South said.
“Thank you. It might, you know; ’specially with Veynes. Oh, I say, do you mind my coming here?”
“I can mind nothing else for days,” he laughed. “Why?”
“I thought your man looked a sort of piled-up disapproval when he let me in.”
“For us all?”
“Yes; and for himself.”
“For himself! Why?”
“Oh, he’s probably seen my face too often in shop windows to care to see it here. You’re all deadly respectable, aren’t you?”
“The whole square is; we’ve taken life policies in propriety. Money, art and titles, and all of it married.”