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"How do you know you will be famous?" asked Lady Beaulyon, amused. "Instinct!" replied Cicely, gaily "Just as the bird knows, it will be able to make a nest, so do I know I shall be famous! Don't let us talk any more about singing! Come and see the garden, Gigue! I'll take you round it and I want a chat with you." The two went off together, much to the relief of the rest of the party.
"It really is, I think!" responded Lady Beaulyon, languidly, turning her fair head to look at the plain sallow girl with the untidy black hair whom she had only seen for a few minutes on her arrival at Abbot's Manor the previous day, and whom she had scarcely noticed.
Eva Beaulyon sank into a chair somewhat wearily, and her beautiful violet eyes, despite artistic 'touching up' looked hard and tired. "Not so far as I am concerned," she said, with a little mirthless laugh "Only I think you behaved very oddly this afternoon. Do you really mean that you object to Bridge on Sundays, or was it only a put on?"
The minister of St. Rest was really quite objectionable, a ranter, a noisy, 'stagey' creature! and both she and Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay murmured to each other that they 'did not like him. "So loud!" said Lady Beaulyon, breathing the words delicately against her friend's Titian-red hair. "So provincial!" rejoined Mrs.
He felt, rather than saw, that Maryllia's eyes were fixed upon him, and he was perfectly aware that Lady Beaulyon, whom he recognised, as he would have recognised an actress, on account of the innumerable photographs of her which were on sale in the windows of every stationer in every moderate-sized town, was gazing straight up at him with a bright, mocking glance in which lurked a suspicion of disdain and laughter.
Lady Beaulyon was just about to light her own cigarette when, in obedience to a sudden thought that flashed across her brain, she turned her lovely laughing face round towards Walden, and said: "As there's a clergyman present, I'm sure we ought to ask his permission before we light up! Don't you think it very shocking for women to smoke, Mr. Walden?"
"And I think Roxmouth sees it!" she added. 'Pipkin' looked weirdly meditative and curiously wizened for a moment. Then she suddenly laughed and clapped her hands. "That will do!" she exclaimed "That's quite good enough for US! Mrs. Fred will pay for THAT information! Don't you see?" Lady Beaulyon shook her head. "Don't you?
These two women were, in a way, notorious as 'leaders' of their own special coteries of social scandalmongers and political brokers; Lady Beaulyon was known best among Jew financiers; Mrs. Courtenay among American 'Kings' of oil and steel.
In these scientific days too!" "Ah science, science!" sighed Mr. Bludlip Courtenay, dropping his monocle with a sharp click against his top waistcoat button "Where will it end?" Nobody volunteered a reply to this profound proposition. "'Souls' are noted for something else than being saved for heaven nowadays, aren't they, Lady Beaulyon?" queried Lord Charlemont, with a knowing smile.
Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay and Lady Beaulyon fell so neatly into the web which Maryllia carefully prepared for them, that she soon found out what a watch they kept upon her, and knew, without further trouble, that she must from henceforth regard them as spies in her aunt and Lord Roxmouth's service.
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