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“I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. She gloried in it: he needed her. It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in Marylebone. Gold-handled, too. . And the Duke, too—I heard him say that a married secretary would be worse than useless to him. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. And, if I'd my own way, I'd drown 'em all like a litter o' puppies.
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