“If she’s already yours what more can she want?” Muniment asked. “All I know of Lady Aurora and all I look at is that she comes and sits with Rosy and brings her tea and waits on her. If the Princess will do as much I’ll see what _I_ can do; but apart from that I shall never take a grain of interest in her interest in the masses—or in this particular mass!” And Paul, with his discoloured thumb, designated his own substantial person. His tone was disappointing to Hyacinth, who was surprised at his not appearing to think the incident at the theatre more remarkable and romantic. He seemed to regard his mate’s explanation of the passage as all-sufficient; but when a moment later he made use, in referring to the mysterious lady, of the expression that she was “quaking” that critic broke out: “Never in the world; she’s not afraid of anything!” “Ah, my lad, not afraid of you, evidently!” Hyacinth paid no attention to this coarse sally, but resumed with a candour that was proof against further ridicule: “Do you think she can do me a hurt of any kind if we follow up our acquaintance?” “Yes, very likely, but you must hit her back and give it to her badly. That’s your line, you know—to go in for what’s going, to live your life, to gratify the ‘sex.’ I’m an ugly, grimy brute, I’ve got to watch the fires and mind the shop; but you’re one of those taking little beggars who _must_ run about and see the world. You ought to be an ornament to society, like a young man in an illustrated storybook. Only you know,” Muniment added in a moment, “if she should hurt you very much I _would_ have a go at her!”