“This is very nice and comfortable,” he said, after the meal. “Somehow, that little legacy of yours, if you’ll pardon the expression, my dear, seems to me likely to prove a blessing in disguise.”
“No disguise about it.”
“You don’t quite follow me,” he remarked patiently. “What I mean is that it’s going to have bigger results than I at first anticipated. Of course, it’s a pity there isn’t more of it.”
“Seeing that I never expected nothing—”
“Quite so, quite so. Only that the Post Office pays such a trifling rate of interest.”
“The money’s safe there,” she interrupted, “that’s the great thing.”
“I should be the last to recommend anything that wasn’t perfectly and absolutely sound,” declared Baynes. “We’re on good terms with each other now, and your interests are my interests. We two are one, so to speak. Only that, getting about as I do, I keep my ears open—”
“Listeners never hear any good of themselves.”
“But sometimes they hear good about other matters. Two chaps were talking on the tramcar last week, and I was sitting just at the back. Jockeys from the look of ’em. They didn’t know I was taking in all they were saying, and they talked quite freely to each other, just as I might to you in this room. Vinolia was what they were chatting about.”
“Old Brown Windsor is as good as anything.”