Twilight Sleep
a fortnight’s splash in Rome. . .oh, I don’t disguise it! And what American bride would accept that? The San Fedele pearls, yes—but where is the San Fedele plumbing? But now, my dear, Michelangelo presents himself as an equal. . .superior, I might say, if I weren't afraid of being partial. Cesar Borgia in a Klawhammer film—no one knows how many millions it may mean! And of course Michelangelo is the very type. . ."
"To do me the favour to transmit to his Eminence. . . Yes; this really is a surprise, Amalasuntha." Inwardly Pauline was saying: "After all, why not? If his own mother doesn't mind seeing him all over the place on film posters. And perhaps now he may pay us back—in common decency he'll have to!"
She saw no serious reason for displeasure, once she had dropped her carefully cultivated Wyant attitude. "If only it doesn’t upset Lita again, and make her restless!" But they really couldn't hope to keep all Lita's friends and relations off the screen.
"Arthur was amazed—and awfully pleased, after the first recoil. Dear Arthur, you know, always recoils at first," the Marchesa continued, with her shrewd deprecating smile, which insinuated that Pauline of course wouldn't. (It was odd, Pauline reflected; the Marchesa always looked like a peasant when she was talking business.)
"Arthur? You’ve already written to him about it?"
