’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. All your faults are just jolly modelling to make you real and solid. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. And Mother trusted him. “Odd!” she said. ‘If you mean this capitaine, he is on the contrary altogether the least delightful person I have met.
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