"Otis Yeere! Of all the improbable people! I don't believe you."
"Hssh! Wait till Mrs. Tarcass begins murdering Milton Wellings; and I'll tell you all about it. S-s-ss! There we are. That woman's voice always reminds me of an underground train coming into Earl's Court with the brakes down. Now listen. It is really Otis Yeere."
"So I see, but it doesn't follow that he is your property."
"He is! By right of trove, as the barristers say. I found him, lonely and unbefriended, the very next night after our talk, at the Dugald Delane's dinner. I liked his eyes and I talked to him. Next day he called. Next day we went for a ride together, and to-day he's tied to my 'rickshaw-wheels hand and foot. You'll see when the concert's over. He doesn't know I'm here yet."
"Thank goodness you haven't chosen a boy. What are you going to do with him, assuming that you've got him?"
"Assuming, indeed! Does a woman—do I—ever make a mistake in that sort of thing? First"—Mrs. Hauksbee ticked off the items ostentatiously on her daintily gloved fingers—"First, my dear, I shall dress him properly. At present his raiment is a disgrace, and he wears a dress-shirt like a crumpled sheet of the Pioneer. Secondly, after I have made him presentable, I shall form his manners—his morals are above reproach."
"You seem to have discovered a great deal about him considering the shortness of your acquaintance."
"Surely you ought to know that the first proof a man gives of his interest in a woman is by talking to her about his own sweet self. If the woman listens without yawning, he begins to like her. If she flatters the animal's vanity, he ends by adoring her."
"In some cases."
"Never mind the exceptions. I know which one you are thinking of. Thirdly, and lastly, after he is polished and made pretty, I shall, as you said, be his guide, philosopher
