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"Going already, Mimsey?" she queried, then, in a lower tone, she said, "Well! what do you think of her?" "A beautiful child no more!" answered Mrs. Marvelle, then, studying with some gravity the brilliant brunette face before her, she added in a whisper, "Leave her alone, Clara, don't make her miserable! You know what I mean! It wouldn't take much to break her heart."
Marvelle was rather startled at the harsh, derisive laughter with which her ladyship concluded her excited observations, but she merely observed mildly "Well, then, you will leave cards?" "Certainly?" "Very good so shall I," and Mrs. Marvelle sighed resignedly. "What must be, must be!
Lady Winsleigh looked vexed Mrs. Marvelle bewildered. "Do you think," inquired this latter, "she can really be so wonderfully lovely?" "No, I don't!" answered Clara snappishly. "I dare say she's a plump creature with a high color men like fat women with brick-tinted complexions they think it's healthy. Helen of Troy indeed! Pooh! Lennie must be crazy."
That girl's been nearly two seasons on my hands, and I think five hundred guineas not a bit too much for all I've done." "Not a bit not a bit!" agreed Mr. Marvelle warmly. "Have they have they " here he put on a most benevolent side-look "quite settled with you, my dear?" "Every penny," replied Mrs. Marvelle calmly. "Old Van Clupp paid me the last hundred this morning. And poor Mrs.
Marvelle, "I must call at the Van Clupps' " "I'll call there with you. I owe them a visit. Has Marcia caught young Masherville yet?" "Well," hesitated Mrs. Marvelle, "he is rather slippery, you know so undecided and wavering!" Lady Winsleigh laughed. "Never mind that! Marcia's a match for him! Rather a taking girl only what an accent! My nerves are on edge whenever I hear her speak."
"She might even have had new pictures and done away with the old ones," observed Mr. Marvelle, with a feeble attempt at satire. His wife darted a keen look at him, but smiled a little too. She was not without a sense of humor. "Nonsense, Montague! She knows the value of works of art better than many a so-called connoisseur. I won't have you make fun of her. Poor girl!
"It's a pity she can't conquer that defect," agreed Mrs. Marvelle. "I know she has tried. But, after all, they're not the best sort of Americans " "The best sort! I should think not! But they're of the richest sort, and that's something, Mimsey!
"You know nothing about it," she said somewhat testily. "Keep to your own business, Montague, such as it is. The law suits your particular form of brain society does not. You would never be in society at all if it were not for me now you know you wouldn't!" "My love," said Mr. Marvelle, with a look of meek admiration at his wife's majestic proportions. "I am aware of it! I always do you justice.
Mrs. Rush-Marvelle, Mrs. Van Clupp and Marcia make their way slowly through the gabbling, pushing, smirking crowd till they form a part of the little coterie immediately round Lady Winsleigh, to whom, at the first opportunity, Mrs. Marvelle whispers "Have they come?" "The modern Paris and the new Helen?" laughs Lady Clara, with a shrug of her snowy shoulders. "No, not yet.
"I shall go to Clara Winsleigh this morning and see what she means to do in the matter. Poor Clara! She must be disgusted at the whole affair!" "She had rather a liking for Errington, hadn't she?" inquired Mr. Marvelle, folding up the Times in a neat parcel, preparatory to taking it with him in order to read it in peace on his way to the Law Courts. "Liking? Well!" And Mrs.
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