My gracious me, don′t you understand anything? Call yourself an Engineer, and not know THAT?′
′Why, how should I know it, Rosa?′
′Because I am very fond of them. But O! I forgot what we are to pretend. No, you needn′t know anything about them; never mind.′
So he is gloomily borne off to the Lumps-of-Delight shop, where Rosa makes her purchase, and, after offering some to him (which he rather indignantly declines), begins to partake of it with great zest: previously taking off and rolling up a pair of little pink gloves, like rose-leaves, and occasionally putting her little pink fingers to her rosy lips, to cleanse them from the Dust of Delight that comes off the Lumps.
′Now, be a good-tempered Eddy, and pretend. And so you are engaged?′
′And so I am engaged.′
′Is she nice?′
′Charming.′
′Tall?′
′Immensely tall!′ Rosa being short.
′Must be gawky, I should think,′ is Rosa′s quiet commentary.
′I beg your pardon; not at all,′ contradiction rising in him.
′What is termed a fine woman; a splendid woman.′
′Big nose, no doubt,′ is the quiet commentary again.
′Not a little one, certainly,′ is the quick reply, (Rosa′s being a little one.)
′Long pale nose, with a red knob in the middle. I know the sort of nose,′ says Rosa, with a satisfied nod, and tranquilly enjoying the Lumps.
′You DON′T know the sort of nose, Rosa,′ with some warmth; ′because it′s nothing of the kind.′
′Not a pale nose, Eddy?′
′No.′ Determined not to assent.
′A red nose? O! I don′t like red noses. However; to be sure she can always powder it.′
′She would scorn to powder it,′ says Edwin, becoming heated.
′Would she? What a stupid thing she must be! Is she stupid in everything?′
′No; in nothing.′
After a pause, in which the whimsically wicked face has not been unobservant of him, Rosa says:
′And this most sensible of creatures likes the idea of being carried off to Egypt; does she, Eddy?′
′Yes. She takes a sensible interest in triumphs of engineering skill: especially when they are to change the whole condition of an undeveloped country.′
′Lor!′ says Rosa, shrugging her shoulders, with a little laugh of wonder.
′Do you object,′ Edwin inquires, with a majestic turn of his eyes downward upon the fairy figure: ′do you object, Rosa, to her feeling that interest?′
′Object? my dear Eddy! But really, doesn′t she hate boilers and things?′
′I can answer for her not being so idiotic as to hate Boilers,′ he returns with angry emphasis; ′though I cannot answer for her views about Things; really not understanding what Things are meant.′
′But don′t she hate Arabs, and Turks, and Fellahs, and people?′
′Certainly not.′ Very firmly.
′At least she MUST hate the Pyramids? Come, Eddy?′
′Why should she be such a little—tall, I mean—goose, as to hate the Pyramids, Rosa?′
′Ah! you should hear Miss Twinkleton,′ often nodding her head, and much enjoying the Lumps, ′bore about them, and then you wouldn′t ask. Tiresome old burying-grounds! Isises, and Ibises, and Cheopses, and Pharaohses; who cares about them? And then there was Belzoni, or somebody, dragged out by the legs, half-choked with bats and dust. All the girls say: Serve him right, and hope it hurt him, and wish he had been quite choked.
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