“Oh, Mr. Cade,” protested Miss Taylor, much distressed, “I’m sure you shouldn’t say that. Papa was only saying last night what gentlemanly manners you had.”
“Very kind of your father, I’m sure, Miss Taylor.”
“And we are all agreed that you are quite the gentleman.”
“I’m overwhelmed.”
“No, really, I mean it.”
“Kind hearts are more than coronets,” said Anthony vaguely, without a notion of what he meant by the remark, and wishing fervently it was lunch time.
“That’s such a beautiful poem, I always think. Do you know much poetry, Mr. Cade?”
“I might recite ‘The boy stood on the burning deck’ at a pinch. ‘The boy stood on the burning deck, whence all but he had fled.’ That’s all I know, but I can do that bit with action if you like. ‘The boy stood on the burning deck’— whoosh — whoosh — whoosh —(the flames, you see) ‘Whence all but he had fled’—for that bit I run to and fro like a dog.”
Miss Taylor screamed with laughter.
“Oh, do look at Mr. Cade! Isn’t he funny?”
“Time for morning tea,” said Anthony briskly. “Come this way. There is an excellent café in the next street.”
“I presume,” said Mrs. Caldicott, in her deep voice, “that the expense is included in the Tour?”
“Morning tea, Mrs. Caldicott,” said Anthony, assuming his professional manner, “is an extra.”