"Jo think it called mim ... mimo ... mimosa?"
"Right. Well, here's the house. Come right in."
"Oh no. Law say...."
"The devil with the law. It's my house; come in."
After repeated urgings she crept through the big door. Her work completely forgotten for once, she marvelled at the lacy curtains, the waxed floors which made walking so difficult and the paintings on the walls.
While she was testing the softness of the big bed upstairs with open-mouthed astonishment, Jonathan slipped out of the room and locked the door.
Tom, his white head bobbing with worry, was watching him from the landing. "I wouldn't have done it, Mister Johnny," he muttered. "It would be better for you to get a girl in England or the States...."
"Damn you, shut your mouth," his master exploded. "There's no danger; she can't get out. This may jolt her out of her rut. Then she can help the others."
He was interrupted by the snarling clangor of the second gong, followed by a wild hammering on the upstairs door.
"You'd better let her out," Tom's head was shaking worse than before. "I know! Your father...."