I rang the bell and summoned Carlotta.
“Perhaps you had better not say who you are,” I suggested.
When Carlotta entered, he rose and looked at her—-oh, so wistfully.
“This, Carlotta,” said I, “is a friend of mine, who would like to make your acquaintance.”
She advanced shyly and held out a timid hand. Obviously she was on her best behaviour. I thanked heaven she had tried her unsuccessful experiment of powder and paint on my vile body and not on that of a stranger.
“Do you—do you like England?” asked the old man.
“Oh, very—very much. Every one is so kind to me. It is a nice place.”
“It is the best place in the world to be young in,” said he.
“Is it?” said Carlotta, with the simplicity of a baby.
“The very best.”