“Oh! very well,” he said. “I suppose I’d better. She didn’t give her name?”
“No, sir.”
“M’m. She couldn’t be by any possible chance my Aunt Jemima, could she? Because if so, I’m damned if I’m going to get up.”
“The lady, sir, could not possibly be anyone’s aunt, I should say, unless the youngest of a large family.”
“Aha,” said Jimmy. “Young and lovely. Is she—what kind is she?”
“The young lady, sir, is most undoubtedly strictly comme il faut, if I may use the expression.”
“You may use it,” said Jimmy graciously. “Your French pronunciation, Stevens, if I may say so, is very good. Much better than mine.”
“I am gratified to hear it, sir. I have lately been taking a correspondence course in French.”
“Have you really? You’re a wonderful chap, Stevens.”
Stevens smiled in a superior fashion and left the room. Jimmy lay trying to recall the names of any young and lovely girls strictly comme il faut who might be likely to come and call upon him.
Stevens reentered with fresh tea, and as Jimmy sipped it he felt a pleasurable curiosity.
“You’ve given her the paper and all that, I hope, Stevens,” he said.
“I supplied her with the Morning Post and Punch , sir.”
A ring at the bell took him away. In a few minutes he returned.
“Another young lady, sir.”