"Isn't it, though? Isn't it? Tiens, you try it!"

"Not without goodness." Henri's voice weakened.

"That's bosh. Of course it is, Henri, my dear. If you love a woman, if
she gets hold of you, gets into your blood, loves you so that the touch
of her fingers sets your pulses going pom-pom, you don't care a sou
whether she is good or not."

"You mean whether she was good or not?"

"No, I don't. I mean is good or not. For if she loves you she'll travel
straight for your sake. Pshaw, you don't know anything about it!"

"I know all about it."

"Know all about it! You're in love--you?"

"Yes."

Fabian sat open-mouthed for a minute. "Godam!" he said. It was his one
English oath.

"Is she good company?" he asked after a minute.

"She's the same as you keep--voila, the same."

"You mean Nell--Nell?" asked Fabian, in a dry, choking voice.