Her eyes fell, and she said in the low full voice that delighted the old man's ears: 'I suppose you would send him home ?' The Ambassador nodded.
'Tenants, turnips, and Petty Sessions! Persian's pleasanter--but those would serve.' He paused a moment, then said seriously, under the cover of a loud buzz of talk, 'He's wasting his time, dear lady--there's no doubt of that.' Lucy still looked down, but her attitude changed imperceptibly.

'The subject interests her!' thought the old man.

'It's a thousand pities,' he resumed, with the caution, masked by the ease, of the diplomat, 'he came out here in a fit of pique.

He saw false--and as far as I can hear, the book's a mistake.

Yet it was not a bad subject.