He loses his head a little.
"Not so absurd as your guardian's, however," says he, feeling the necessity for saying something without the power to manufacture it.
"Mr.Curzon's?
What is his name ?" asks she, rising out of her lounging position and looking, for the first time, interested.
"Thaddeus." Perpetua, after a prolonged stare, laughs a little.
"What a name!" says she.

"Worse than mine.

And yet," still laughing, "it suits him, I think." Hardinge laughs with her.

Not _at_ his friend, but _with_ her.

It seems clear to him that Perpetua is making gentle fun of her guardian, and though his conscience smites him for encouraging her in her naughtiness, still he cannot refrain.
"He is an awfully good old fellow," says he, throwing a sop to his Cerberus.
"Is he ?" says Perpetua, as if even _more_ amused.