“And this is Mr. Boynton. He was at Anne’s for tea. Do you remember?” Ellen’s eyes were amused.
“Of course, how could I forget an occasion like that?” Alexis’ voice was cool.
They had reached the landing and he stood aside as they entered the large salon.
“Why, it is the old world!” exclaimed the Spaniard, advancing into the room with small prancing steps. “Quite vieux monde. I congratulate you. Absolutely authentic, although a little new and smelling of varnish, if one may say it?”
Ellen sank into a highbacked chair, laughing.
“Even Florentine villas were young once! Pedro would like to have everything covered with dry rot. He doesn’t enjoy sitting in a chair unless it is ready to break under him. He won’t even come to see me any more, because he says my house upsets his functional system.”
“It’s true. It does.” Caldenas nodded like a serious baby.
“I notice he doesn’t object to musical comedy, and that’s pretty up to date,” giggled the fluffy one.
The Spaniard shrugged up to his ears.
“But, my dear lady, musical comedy is as old as woman’s oldest profession!”