“You’ve just got to tell me all about it,” she said in her determined fashion.
It was their first evening, after dinner, as soon as the Canon had gone down to his library.
“All about what, Dina?” asked Yvonne.
“Oh, don’t pretend not to know. You were as happy as a bird when I was here last, and now you don’t open your mouth.”
“I think I want a change,” said Yvonne. “I am getting too respectable. At first, you see, everything was new, and now I have got used to it. I think if I could run about London by myself for a month, and sing at lots of concerts, it would do me good. And oh, Dina—I should so much like to hear a man say ‘damn’ again!”
“Well, I’m not a man, but I’ ll say it for you—damn, damn, damn. Now do you feel better?”
“Oh, you look so funny as you say it!” cried Yvonne, with a laugh. “I wish it was something artistic and you could teach it to the Canon.”
“It strikes me, if I were to set about it, I could teach the Canon a good many things. First of all, what a treasure he has got—which he does n’t seem quite aware of.”
“Oh, Dina, you mustn’t say that,” said Yvonne, looking shocked. “He is all kindness and indulgence—really, dear. If I feel dull, it is because I am wicked and hanker after frivolous things—Van, for instance, and a comic song. Do you know you have n’t once spoken about Van?”
“Oh, don’t talk of Van,” said Miss Vicary; “I am getting tired of him. He never knows his mind three days together. If I was n’t a fool I would give him up for good and all.”