LOVE IN IDLENESS.
The arrival of Baron von Neuburg, otherwise King Michael of Thracia,
did not add to the gaiety of the circle at the Castle. Scarcely more
than a boy in years, his face was so curiously old that not only Usk
but his father looked young beside him, and his manner was weary
almost to the point of exhaustion.
“I don’t take much stock in kings generally,” Félicia remarked to Usk
after the new-comer had been presented to her; “but for the sake of
the rest I hope this one’s a bad sample.”
“He’s not a particularly good specimen, certainly. Aren’t his ways
awfully riling?”
“Yes,” agreed Félicia; “that’s where the difference comes in between
him and your uncle. Lord Cyril is just elegant. He has dipped into
everything, and got pretty tired, but he don’t advertise the fact. The
Baron has done it too, and parades his weariness, and that’s rude.”
“I’m glad you don’t care for him,” said Usk honestly. “He’s not--not
the sort of fellow I should like to see you take to.”
“Don’t you know that by saying that you’re just daring me to be as
sweet to him as I know how?”
“Oh, I know people say that sort of thing about women, but no nice
woman would go and make up to a man of bad character simply because
she was warned against him.”
“Then I’m a nice woman? Well, I guess you’ll expect me do something
for you in return for that acknowledgment, and I’d admire to teach the
Baron a lesson.”
“Not by way of breaking his heart, please.”
“Not while you’re around, any way. But I’d like to have him know what
folks would think of him if he didn’t just happen to be a king.”
It is possible that Félicia set to work with all the more gusto that
she was conscious of a personal injury at her introduction to the
King. To her mind his look had expressed no recognition of the fact
that he was being presented to a very beautiful woman. Maimie also had
noticed this insensibility, and she commented upon it to Félicia,
with a certain lack of tact.
“You see, Fay, he can just tolerate having you around as the future
Lady Usk, but it’s quite beyond him to show any interest in an
untitled American girl. She’s way down under his feet in the mud
somewhere.”
“Well, I guess it’ll maybe interest him to know what the American girl
thinks about him.”
“Don’t see how you’re going to have him feel it, any way. Say, Fay,
Usk is real devoted, isn’t he? I’m glad you’ve taken him instead of
the King now I’ve seen him, don’t you think! He’s solid good right
through. He won’t ever have you find out anything new and unpleasant
about him. Every day of his life he’ll come to meet you mornings with
a flower, just as his father does to Lady Caerleon, and he’ll like
nothing better evenings than sit alone with you and read the ‘Times’
out loud.”
“Guess I’ll fix things differently to that.”
“You’d better not. His way will save you a pretty good deal of
trouble. He’ll like you to be the same all the time, just as he is.
And so’s you’re just decently civil to him, he’ll never be ugly. It’s
only with a man like the Baron you need to be smart, for you lose him
if he’s away out of your sight a moment.”
“Well, I incline to think the Baron will need to be smart this next
week.”
In all probability the Baron was of the same opinion before the week
was over. He had come prepared to take the lead in the general
conversation, even if he did not monopolise it, and nothing was
further from his thoughts than that this little nobody of an American,
whom the Caerleons had managed to pick up for Usk on account of her
money, should take it upon herself to dispute his right. Young as he
was, King Michael had already ruled so long that it seemed to him only
natural to be the autocrat of any table at which he sat, and it was
whispered that his meetings with other monarchs were few and far
between, and also extremely short, by reason of this genial habit of
mind. It was a tremendous shock to find himself called upon for
explanations, laughed at for his choice of words, even contradicted,
and all by a radiant being who flashed provoking glances at him from
magnificent eyes, and having annihilated him, turned with irritating
nonchalance to engage Usk in a low-toned conversation punctuated with
soft looks.
To Usk himself these favours, thus publicly conferred, were the
reverse of delightful. His hospitable soul was wounded by the
treatment meted out to the guest, and he could not help feeling that
it was bad form in Félicia to emphasise his own happier position at
every opportunity. When he ventured to remonstrate, however, his only
reward was a severe snubbing in private, for Félicia was not to be
turned from her prey. Lord Cyril, to whom Lady Caerleon appealed in
distress, laughed at the whole thing, and declared that Félicia’s
scorn was the best possible tonic for his stepson. To have met her
would be a liberal education for him, provided she continued the
treatment to the end of his visit, and did not soften towards him for
a moment. But there was no need for her to do this. It was enough for
King Michael to notice the difference in her manner when she turned to
Usk. When a rarely beautiful woman treats one man to nothing but
gibes, and lavishes tenderness upon another who looks rather
uncomfortable under the process, it is not in human nature not to wish
to be in the other man’s place for once.
Maimie had been watching eagerly for the King to reach this point, but
here she found herself at a standstill. All this time she had been
cultivating the acquaintance of the aide-de-camp, Captain Andreivics,
who had accompanied King Michael, and was introduced as his “friend.”
She had picked his brains to such good purpose that she knew as much
as he did of the King’s circumstances, and had gone far beyond him in
the deductions she drew. He could not tell her exactly how the long
hours were spent when the King and his stepfather were closeted every
morning with vast piles of papers, but she knew. She could picture
Cyril exposing pitilessly the extravagance, laxity, and corruption
which had spread through every department of State since he had left
Thracia, and indicating reforms and economies which would put matters
straight if the present crisis could be tided over, but performing no
miracle to provide the money urgently needed at the moment. It was
from the aide-de-camp, however, that she heard how one morning the
King dashed away the papers with the pettish remark, “Really, Count,
your brain seems as strong as ever for all these absurd trivialities.
Why is it that you refuse to return to Thracia and get me out of my
difficulty?” and how the incisive answer flashed forth, “If my brain
was as strong as ever, sir, I should not be busy with these
trivialities. I should be holding the balance of power in Europe.” She
knew that both Cyril and the King had reluctantly come to the
conclusion that, failing the much-needed miracle, there was only one
thing to be done. The King must journey homewards by way of the
Riviera, where the Scythian Princess who had been proposed for his
acceptance was sojourning. There was a bare hope that his apparent
intention of falling in with the arrangement suggested by Scythia
might alarm his Pannonian and Hercynian relations into some attempt to
prevent the threatened surrender.
Maimie ground her teeth, metaphorically speaking, over this deadlock.
There were Félicia’s millions, far more than sufficient to fill the
yawning gulf, for the sum which could bring a Balkan State to
bankruptcy was trivial in American eyes, and no one seemed to have
thought of making use of them. The King, however much he might admire
the girl of whose beauty he had at last become conscious, had not the
slightest thought of marrying her, and Cyril would take no step to
utilise those convenient millions, even if they ever occurred to him,
because Félicia happened to be engaged to Usk. Maimie felt that she
had no patience with Usk, who to the injury of existing added insult
by hanging about Félicia so perpetually that the King had no
opportunity of getting up a flirtation with her even if he desired it.
If Usk would only run up to town for a day or two! but he remained in
Félicia’s near neighbourhood as persistently as if he had known of
Maimie’s designs and meant to thwart them. Captain Andreivics it was
who returned to London two days before the time fixed for the King’s
departure, and with no better excuse than the stereotyped one of
“urgent business,” so that Maimie lost her cavalier.
At last, just when Maimie was gloomily revolving in her mind various
desperate expedients for removing Usk from Félicia’s side, the motive
force required was suddenly imparted from without. It came in the form
of a letter from Mr Forfar, the Prime Minister, to Lord Caerleon,
asking whether Usk was still thinking of entering Parliament. If so,
he could do a great service to the party (to which the Marquis had
always lent a loyal, if discriminating support, since his own entry on
public life), by allowing himself to be adopted as the future
candidate for a great Northern constituency. The sitting member was
old and feeble, but had stoutly refused to tolerate the mention of a
successor until recently, when a severe illness had given him a
fright. He was now willing to allow a suitable “under-study” to be
introduced to the party managers and make himself known in the
constituency; and as the supporters of the Temperance cause were well
organised and powerful, what more suitable candidate could be found
than the son of the life-long Temperance champion? Neither Usk nor his
father hesitated a moment in accepting the offer. The great banquet,
at which Sir James Morrell had reluctantly undertaken to present his
successor to the association which had so often shared with him the
sweets of victory, was to take place two nights after the arrival of
Mr Forfar’s letter, and there was no time to be lost. Usk dashed
upstairs in high excitement to pack his bag, while his father went
round to the stables himself to order the dogcart, and Lady Caerleon
interviewed the cook on the subject of sandwiches. It never entered
Usk’s mind that any one could dream he would let slip this
long-desired opportunity, and he sent an eager message by Maimie
begging Félicia, who was breakfasting in her own room, to drive to
the station with him. When he came downstairs with his bag, however,
he found her still in her “wrapper,” as she called the frilled and
beribboned garment which Lady Caerleon always felt ought not to make
its appearance outside a bedroom. Maimie had insisted on her getting
up when she brought Usk’s message, and she was obliged to make a very
hasty toilet, much to her disgust. She did not appear to suitable
advantage, she felt, unless Pringle’s skilful fingers had proper time
for their work.
“Why, Fay, aren’t you coming, then?” cried Usk, when he saw her.
“I guess not,” responded Félicia laconically.
“Well, you’ll wish me joy, won’t you? This is the beginning, you
know.”
“Of what? The beginning of the end?”
“What do you mean?” Usk was too happy and too much excited to make any
attempt to understand. “Why, it’s my chance at last--what we’ve talked
of so often.”
“You have,” corrected Félicia. Then a transient gleam of brightness
showed itself. “Canvassing, do you mean? Then I suppose we are all to
trail you along?”
“Oh no, that would be a little previous,” laughed Usk. “I’m only going
to be introduced to the party. There’s no election on at present.”
“I want to know! You’re leaving me this way just for an ordinary
ward-meeting? and you don’t so much as ask me whether I choose to have
you go?”
“Why in the world should I think you’d mind? I thought you would be
delighted. Why, Fay!” in utter amazement, for Félicia was weeping
delicately into a lace handkerchief.
“You said you loved me, and now you’re having the
Baron--everybody--see how little you care for me. You just haven’t the
very slightest consideration for my feelings!”
Dismayed and astounded, but still utterly puzzled as to the nature of
his offence, Usk knelt down hastily by her chair, and alternately
entreated her forgiveness and adjured her to tell him what he had
done. With him it was a matter of course that the women of a household
should send forth their men to the chances of war or politics with a
brave face and words of cheer, and he could not conceive Félicia’s
feeling hurt at not being consulted. He did not know that Maimie’s
triumphant “Now you see just how much he thinks about you!” was
rankling in her mind, and that she had set her heart on proving her
power over him. When she consented at last to remove the handkerchief
from her eyes, it was merely to intimate that he might consider
himself forgiven if he did not go. Usk sprang to his feet.
“And lose this chance--give Forfar a slap in the face?” he cried in
astonishment. “Why, Fay, you must be mad! You’re joking, aren’t you?
You couldn’t possibly mean it.”
“I guess I mean exactly what I say. You’re telling me all the time how
much you love me, but I can’t just seem to realise it.”
“You mean that you ask me in cold blood to give up this chance,
disappoint my people, offend Forfar, just because--why, it’s for no
reason at all!”
“I don’t ask you anything,” said Félicia, rising regally, and
throwing him a glance over her shoulder. “I just tell you to do it.”
“Well, then, I won’t,” returned Usk, with equal candour; but as she
swept towards the door he intercepted her, breaking into a laugh,
“Why, Fay, for the moment I thought you meant it. What a gorgeous
scene we have been making over nothing at all! Now you don’t leave
this room until you say you’re sorry, and signify the same in the
usual manner. There! I’m getting quite a public speaker already.”
“It’s a pity if your future audiences don’t appreciate you better than
the present one,” said Félicia coldly. “Kindly allow me pass. If you
don’t choose to consult my wishes--well, you’re not the only man in
the world, any way.”
“Now it would serve you right if I kept you here until you gave in,”
said Usk, “but I hear my father tramping up and down in furious
anxiety about the train. I’ll settle this little matter with you when
I come back, but any token of penitence in the shape of a letter will
receive due consideration. And--just that you mayn’t make yourself
miserable thinking I’m angry with you--there! and there! and as many
more assurances of pardon as you like.”
He ran along the corridor, still laughing, and Félicia returned
angrily to her own room. It was the laughter that annoyed her. Even if
Usk had refused to yield, he ought to have taken her objection
seriously. He was so sure of her that he thought he could afford to
laugh at her, was he? Very well; it might be advisable to show him
that he need not be quite so sure.
Maimie, in the meantime, had been taking advantage of the change in
the situation. After giving Usk’s message to Félicia, she wandered
down to the second of the terraces before the Castle, where King
Michael was wont to smoke his after-breakfast cigar. It was his custom
to breakfast in his own rooms, and Maimie felt comfortably certain
that Usk would not have thought of hunting for him in the garden in
order to bid him farewell. When she caught sight of him, he was
walking up and down somewhat listlessly, as though he missed the
companionship of Captain Andreivics, but she saw a change pass over
his face when he heard the tap of her heels on the terrace above. As
she came down the steps, she could see him before he saw her, and it
gave her a keen delight to see his look of disappointment when he met
her at the foot.
“Good morning, Baron!” she remarked cheerfully. “Say, we shall be left
awfully lonely to-night, shan’t we--what with the Captain leaving
yesterday, and Lord Usk this morning, and you this evening, I
suppose?”
“I leave to-morrow,” said the King, looking at her with cold surprise.
“No, is that so? I guess Lord Usk don’t know it, rushing off the way
he has. He would never leave Félicia unguarded a whole day.”
“Is Miss Steinherz supposed to be in danger from me?”
Maimie laughed mischievously. “You know your own reputation best,
Baron. I don’t see but Lord Usk thought it wasn’t enough to warn
Félicia against you, the way he has mounted guard over her.”
“Oh, our friend Usk felt it necessary to warn his bride against me,
did he? I think that was not playing the game, as they say here.”
“Well, I guess I oughtn’t to have given him away. He knows his way
about, I suppose, and--yes, it was just as well he did it.”
“Why? Has it produced the opposite effect, as usual, and induced the
young lady to honour me with her friendly interest?”
Maimie gave him a glance of compassion. “What good would there be in
that?” she asked curtly. “No; it just showed Félicia what he expected
of her, so’s she concluded to satisfy him at any cost to herself.”
A light seemed to break upon the King. “What! you mean that all this
raillery, all the contempt she has poured upon me for a whole week,
was nothing but an effort to please her bridegroom?”
“Don’t you try and have me say that Félicia’s an angel,” Maimie
admonished him. “I won’t tell you her secrets, any way. And I don’t
see but you’ll have to stay till to-morrow as you’ve fixed it so; but
I wish you were leaving sooner.”
“Miss Logan’s interest in my movements does me too much honour.
Perhaps it will gratify her to know that it is possible I may not even
be leaving to-morrow.”
“Ah, I thought that ‘urgent business’ of the Captain’s covered more
folks’ affairs than his own. You mean he’ll be coming down with more
documents for you to study with Lord Cyril?”
“I had not meant that----” the King was beginning, but as he caught
the merest hint of scorn in Maimie’s eye, his face assumed an
expression of deep importance. “It is extremely probable. What is the
good of an aide-de-camp but to make himself useful?”
“An aide-de-camp--do tell!” cried Maimie. “And you’ve called him your
friend all the time! Why, you must be a general, then! Say, General,
they promote people pretty young in your country, don’t they?”
“Mademoiselle,” said the King severely, “with a young lady who has
contrived to discover so much of my private affairs, it is surely
unnecessary to keep up this wearisome farce?”
“M. le Baron,” said Maimie, making him a curtsey, “the farce was of
your own providing. If you choose to throw up your part it can’t hurt
me, any way.”
“You imply that there is another act, if I care to play it?”
“I don’t imply anything. I’m not taking any risks, if you are.”
“So be it. I take the risk. Andreivics shall arrive from London with
important documents. Accept my compliments, mademoiselle. I sent him
away because I wished to feel that a few of my secrets still remained
in my own possession. You have secured his return by means of a
diplomacy which my good stepfather in his best days might have
envied.”
Maimie looked him over with a slow gaze of infinite scorn. “I guess,”
she said calmly, “that you’re sort of acclimatised to being despised?
You seem to lay yourself out for it so naturally. Usk was pretty wise
in warning Félicia against you, and she was doing the best for
herself when she chilled you off. What she can see in you----”
“Permit me to observe that you are revealing an interesting secret,
mademoiselle,” said the King malignantly. “After what you have said it
would be ungallant in me not to remain here. I telegraph to Andreivics
this morning.”
“Now we begin to be moving!” said Maimie to herself, as she left him
in speechless contempt. “He don’t even see that I’m having him go the
very way I want him. And now for Fay.”
She found that Félicia, having worked herself up into a high state of
resentment against Usk, had determined to punish him by entering upon
a flirtation with the King. Maimie shook her head when Félicia
declared her intentions.
“I wouldn’t, Fay,” she said. “You’ve done elegantly this far, the way
you’ve frozen him off. You’ll only get all of your affairs into a
snarl. And what’s more, I don’t believe he’s to be had. He knows just
how to take care of himself, and I can’t seem to see you making any
sort of impression on him.”
This was all that was needed to put Félicia on her mettle.
“Maimie Logan,” she said decisively, “did you ever know any man that
could take care of himself when I was around? I guess Usk will be
sorry that he went off this way.”
“Why, what do you mean doing?” Maimie’s tone was full of alarm.
“Oh, just make things uncomfortable a little--nothing more.”
“But if Usk will just stay away four or five days, there’ll be a good
deal more,” was Maimie’s mental comment.
“Michael,” said Queen Ernestine to her son four days later, when she
had succeeded after many vain attempts in finding him alone, “don’t
you think you are paying rather too much attention to Miss Steinherz?”
She spoke timidly, anticipating the black frown which gathered at once
upon King Michael’s brow, as he bestowed a mental curse upon
Félicia’s methods. It was not in her nature to be content with a
secret adoration. The King might waylay her in the garden if he chose,
or look for her in her favourite nook in the picture-gallery, and
enjoy her society until Maimie, posted judiciously near at hand, felt
it her duty to interrupt them, but he must not attempt to hide his
chains in public. Hence King Michael’s relations had the pleasure of
seeing him dancing attendance upon the whims of a languid beauty, who
had vouchsafed to lay aside much of her sharpness of tongue, but still
betrayed no delight in his attentions. Even Usk could not have desired
more absolute unconsciousness of her conquest than Félicia exhibited.
“Have you ever known me forget my position?” King Michael asked at
last, when his mother’s face had grown more and more anxious.
“Never,” she answered, recalling many memories at once humorous and
pathetic.
“Then rest assured that I never shall.”
“But, dear,” urged the Queen, “in that case would it not be as well to
return to London? It looks--mind, I only say it looks--as if you were
taking advantage of Usk’s prolonged absence to rob him of his bride’s
affections, and you would not wish to do that.”
“Count Mortimer has already given me a pretty strong hint to go, but I
will not leave my work undone.”
“But he told me to-day that it was all finished.”
“On the contrary, it is only half-done,” was the reply, with an
enigmatical smile. “Who would have thought I should become so deeply
interested in a matter entered upon so lightly?”
“So lightly--when the future of your kingdom and your own happiness
may depend upon the arrangements you are able to make?” cried the
Queen, in surprise. “You don’t take things seriously enough, Michael.”
“Possibly not, but sometimes things take me seriously, quite against
my will.”
* * * * * * * *
“I would just love to hustle some folks a little!” Maimie was
reflecting, much about the same time. “Usk will arrive home in a day
or two, and I’d like to have things fixed. I never thought the Baron
would have so much grit in him, but the way he fights off a definite
declaration is real fine. But Fay is even with him there. What with
his precious kingdom, and her engagement, they can’t seem to get on at
all. And until they do, I can’t step in as fairy godmother to put
things straight.”
While the thought was still in her mind, the door opened violently,
and Félicia ran in. Flinging herself upon the sofa, she began to cry,
not weeping in the artistic way which had damped Usk’s departure, but
shedding genuine tears of disappointment and mortification.
“I’ll never forgive you!” she sobbed out to Maimie. “This is the
second time you’ve put me in just the most horrid sort of a position.
You had me encourage the Malasorte man until he cooled off of his own
accord, and now the King has told me in so many words that he can’t
ask me to marry him--after having me say I cared for him. I wouldn’t
mind so much but for that.”
“Well, you can marry Usk yet,” was the unsympathetic reply.
“After expecting to be a queen!” fresh sobs followed “He spoke so’s I
really concluded it was all safe. And you sit there and say nothing. I
hate you!”
“Why?” asked Maimie calmly.
“How can I help it when you’re so mean and ugly? You told me you could
fix things, and I thought you had fixed them right away. And then you
have all of this happen!”
“Now look here, Fay,” Maimie grasped her shoulder. “If I operate my
scheme right now, will you promise to give up Usk and marry the King?
I won’t go a step without knowing that.”
“I don’t feel like giving him up until you have got things fixed. If
they should chance to go wrong, I would just find myself left.”
“It may be some time before they go right, I grant that, but you must
take some risks. Well, if I let you stay engaged to Usk for the
present, will you break off with him when I give the word?”
“Ye-es, but you’ll have to be quite sure about it.”
“I’ll see to that. Where did you leave the King?”
“On the second terrace. He was real sorry to have to say what he did,
but I was so mad I wouldn’t stop,” said Félicia, with a curious kind
of self-satisfaction.
“It must be real nice to be able to love folks according to what they
can give you!” soliloquised Maimie, as she went in search of the King.
“She would accept Usk when there was no other man in view, but now the
Baron holds the winning cards--unless there should be any fascinating
emperors around before we get things fixed. But here’s the lucky man!”
King Michael was walking from end to end of the terrace, smoking
moodily. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, and the blackest
possible frown was on his brow. He was hard hit, Maimie saw, and
scarcely likely to welcome the appearance of the person to whom he
might consider that he owed his present unhappy frame of mind, but she
met him boldly.
“Say, Baron,” she said, placing herself in his path, “is it true
you’ve told my Félicia you love her, but can’t marry her?”
“It is, mademoiselle. If you have chosen this terrace as a promenade,
I will go elsewhere.”
“Well, if I was a king, I guess I’d marry the woman I loved.”
“Pardon me, I am not only a king. I am a son of the house of
Schwarzwald-Molzau, and we do not mingle the blood of Charlemagne with
that of--manufacturers.”
“And so you sigh as a lover and obey as a son? But you wanted to marry
Lord Usk’s sister once, I know, for Mr Hicks told me.”
The King’s eyes flashed gloomily. “I do not understand this
catechism,” he said angrily. “It is intolerable! The Mortimer blood is
equal to that of any semi-royal house in Europe, and there were
special reasons why a marriage with Lady Philippa would have been very
pleasing to my subjects.”
“Well, I guess a marriage with a Princess of Arragon would about
satisfy them, any way.”
“Not if she were a Catholic.”
“Is that so? Well, the girl you have just told that you love her and
can’t marry her is a Princess of Arragon and a Protestant.”
“Impossible. I know the Prince of Arragon’s three daughters well, and
Don Florian’s only daughter is married to another cousin of mine.”
“You are forgetting. There was a third brother.”
“Don José? But he was not married. Oh, I remember there was some talk
of a morganatic marriage. But that is not to the purpose.”
“Excuse me, but I guess it’s very much to the purpose.”
“Allow me to say that you do not know how these things are
regarded--how I regard them, necessarily.”
“But suppose the marriage was recognised? Wait, I’ll tell you about
it,” and she ran through the circumstances hastily. “If the marriage
was good enough for the Arragon family to accept Félicia as one of
themselves, I guess it would be good enough for you?”
“Undoubtedly; but I do not see the faintest likelihood that the House
of Albret would recognise the marriage.”
“That’s where your help would be wanted. I’d like you to lay the whole
thing before Lord Cyril to-day, and have him operate it.”
But the King started back, aghast. “My dear Miss Logan, do you not see
that it would be fatal--suicidal--for me to appear in the matter?
Count Mortimer has his nephew’s interests to consider.”
“That is so; we mustn’t go ahead too fast,” said Maimie. “Then you
incline to think Félicia and I may fight all of the battle for
ourselves?”
“Quite so. There can be no objection to your consulting Count
Mortimer, purely on her behalf, you know; and if by any chance your
efforts should be crowned with success, why--you have given me hope--I
am happy again!”
“Oh no, you aren’t--not yet. We shall want your help any way. I know
well enough there’s no hope of having Félicia’s family recognise her
unless some one puts pressure on them. Are you ready to intimate at
the critical moment that you are real keen on marrying her, if they
can fix things right?”
“That would be highly injudicious. I think I had better not
appear----”
“As you please. You throw up your cards, then, and Félicia will just
marry Usk.”
“You place me in a most difficult position, but rather than lose
Félicia----”
“I thought so. Then you would better go way back to the Riviera right
now, and make a little gentle love to the Grand-Duchess Sonya, just to
keep your folks sort of interested, you know. I’ll let you hear when
you’re wanted.”