I should be sorry--indeed I should be deeply shocked if the Esmeralda were to fail in that duty." "Yes, sir," said Pollyooly in polite sympathy, though she had not the slightest notion what he meant.
"Especially since I took such pains to present to her the true ideal--the English ideal," he went on.

"Whereas this Moldo-Wallachian--at least that's what I gather from this letter--is merely handsome in that cheap and obvious South-European way--that is to say he has big, black eyes, probably liquid, and a large, probably flowing, moustache.

Therefore I go to Buda-Pesth." "Yes, sir," said Pollyooly with the same politeness and in the same ignorance of his reason for going.
"I shall wire to her to-day--to give her pause--and to-morrow I shall start." He paused, looking at her thoughtfully for a moment, then went on: "I should like to take you with me, for I know how helpful you can be in the matter of these insolent and infatuated foreigners.

But Buda-Pesth is too far away.

And the question is what I am going to do with you while I'm away." "We can stay here all right, sir--the Lump and me," said Pollyooly quickly, with a note of surprise in her voice.
Her little brother, Roger, who lived with her in the airy attic above the Honourable John Ruffin's chambers, had acquired the name of "The Lump" from his admirable placidity.
"I don't like the idea of your doing that," he said, shaking his head and frowning.