“You’re perfectly right,” said Pomeroy uncertainly. “I’m afraid I rather
lost sight of that—that aspect.”
“So did I,” said Belinda shakily. “And I feel very much ashamed. Ivan,
if we can’t behave ourselves we ought to renounce. It’s—it’s not
decent.”
“Don’t rub it in, dear,” said Ivan brokenly. “You—you can shift the
blinkin’ balustrade.”
“I shan’t,” said Belinda. “He—he put it there.” Ivan groaned. “I shan’t
touch a thing,” she continued tearfully. “And we won’t have any
arrangement about residing. I don’t think it’s necessary now.”
“That’s right,” said Ivan. “After all, one doesn’t have to have a
lawsuit as to who’s to have the first bath. If one wants hers at
half-past eight, the other can have his at nine.”
“Exactly,” said Miss Seneschal. The two rose to their feet. “Well, thank
you very much, Mr. Forsyth. You’ll let us know whatever we’ve got to
do.”
“I will,” said Forsyth, rising. “When either wants to occupy they can
send the other a card. If any difficulty arises you can always come to
me. But I’m sure it won’t.”
He passed to the door.
“Good-bye, Forsyth,” said Pomeroy. “And many, many thanks. For takin’
other people’s bulls by the horns you have no equal.”
Belinda laughed mischievously.
“Whose bull did you take this morning?” she said.
“No one’s,” said Forsyth. “I took a lady by the hand and a soldier by
the arm, and the three of us did some reading between the lines.”
“What did I say you should have been?”
The solicitor smiled.
“I told you I was—sometimes.”