“I shall be happy in having such a champion of my husband for a brother-in-law,” said Norma, lightly.
“A loyal friend of your own, if you will,” said Jimmie.
There was a short pause. Norma ran the tip of her gloved finger down the leaf of a plant on a stand. They were by the window. A vibration in his voice vaguely troubled her.
“What do you really mean by 'loyal'?” she said at last, without looking at him.
“The word has but one meaning. If I tried to explain further, I should only appear to be floundering in fatuity.”
“I believe you are the kind that would stick to a woman through thick and thin, through good repute and ill repute. That's what you mean. Only you don't like to hint that I might at any time become disreputable. I may. All things are possible in this world.”
“Not that,” said Jimmie. “Perhaps I was unconsciously pleading for myself. Say you are a queen in your palace. While humbly soliciting a position in your household, I somewhat grandiloquently submit my qualifications.”
“What's all this about?” asked Morland, coming up, having overheard the last sentence.
“I am pleading for a modest position in Her Majesty's Household,” said Jimmie.
“We'll fit him up with cap and bells,” laughed Morland, “and make him chief jester, and give him a bladder to whack us over the head with. He's fond of doing that when we misbehave ourselves. Then he can get us out of our scrapes, like the fellow in Dumas—what's his name—Chicot, was n't it?”