It was a fine joke.
"There's a lot in Liosha's suggestion," said Barbara, with an air of seriousness.
"You don't expect me to come and live here ?" he cried, waving a hand to the frills and ribbons.
"It wouldn't be a bad idea," said I."You would get all the advantages and refining influences of a first-class English home." He pivoted round.

"Oh, you be--" "Hush," said Barbara.

"Either you ought to stay here and look after Liosha more than you do--" He protested.

Wasn't he always looking after her?
Didn't he write?
Didn't he drop in now and then to see how she was getting on?
"Have you ever taken the poor child out to dinner ?" Barbara asked sternly.
He stood before her in the confusion of a schoolboy detected in a lapse from grace, stammering explanations.

Then Liosha rose, and I noticed just the faintest little twitching of her lip.
"I don't want Jaff Chayne to be made to take me out to dinner against his will." "But--God bless my soul! I should love to take you out.