"
"What an odd place to meet people!" she said nervously. "I don't
quite understand."
"In the Umbrian Room. Absolute strangers. They were admiring Luca
Signorelli--of course, quite stupidly. However, we got talking,
and they refreshed me not--a little. They had been to Italy."
"But, Cecil--" proceeded hilariously.
"In the course of conversation they said that they wanted a
country cottage--the father to live there, the son to run down
for week-ends. I thought, 'What a chance of scoring off Sir
Harry!' and I took their address and a London reference, found
they weren't actual blackguards--it was great sport--and wrote to
him, making out--"
"Cecil! No, it's not fair. I've probably met them before--"
He bore her down.
"Perfectly fair. Anything is fair that punishes a snob. That old
man will do the neighbourhood a world of good. Sir Harry is too
disgusting with his 'decayed gentlewomen.' I meant to read him a
lesson some time. No, Lucy, the classes ought to mix, and before
long you'll agree with me.
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