"I came through the front door, Marguerite, not the window. Much more civilised." Harry corrects, as if it was an unimportant point but one that should at least be noted. "Do you entertain all men in your bed-robe? Or only certain men? And is your husband jealous?" He teases, settling back down on the window edge.
"May I ask what you didn't understand? Can we speak frankly here? After all, I don't think we are going to find a place any more private than this." He says, readjusting his jacket, re-fastening the buttons. "I had thought I'd made myself quite plain. As had you. Showing off your ankles on the steps." He adds, with a smirk. "Hardly proper."