THE PAPERS
"You'll decide in that case for the nine?" And as the allusion, with its funny emphasis, left her blank: "You want to wear all the trousers?"
"You deserve," she said, when light came, "that I should take him." And she kept it up. "It's a lovely flat."
Well, he could do as much. "Nine, I suppose, appeals to you as the number of the muses?"
This short passage, remarkably, for all its irony, brought them together again, to the extent at least of leaving Maud's elbows on the table and of keeping her friend, now a little back in his chair, firm while he listened to her. So the girl came out. "I've seen Mrs. Chorner three times. I wrote that night, after our talk at Richmond, asking her to oblige. And I put on cheek as I had never, never put it. I said the public would be so glad to hear from her 'on the occasion of her engagement.'"
"Do you call that cheek?" Bight looked amused. "She at any rate rose straight."
"No, she rose crooked; but she rose. What you had told me there in the Park—well, immediately happened. She did consent to see me, and so far you had been right in keeping me up to it. But what do you think it was for?"
"To show you her flat, her tub, her petticoats?"
"She doesn't live in a flat; she lives in a house of her own, and a jolly good one, in Green Street, Park Lane; though I did, as happened, see her tub, which is a dream—all marble and silver, like a kind of a swagger sarcophagus, a thing for the Wallace Collection; and though her petticoats, as she first shows, seem all that, if you wear petticoats yourself, you can look at. There's no doubt of her money—given her place and her things, and given her appearance too, poor dear, which would take some doing."
"She squints?" Bight sympathetically asked.
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