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Updated: May 6, 2025
Her companion glanced at her lifted her eyebrows hesitated and finally put the letter back into her pocket. There was an awkward silence, when Diana suddenly returned to Lady Niton's side. "Where is Miss Drake?" she said, sharply. "Is the marriage put off?" "Marriage!" Lady Niton laughed. "Alicia and Oliver? H'm. I don't think we shall hear much more of that!" "I thought it was settled."
They returned hurriedly. "Who made Oliver that waistcoat?" said Lady Niton, putting on her spectacles. "I did," said Alicia Drake, as she came up, with her arm round the younger of Lady Niton's nieces. "Isn't it becoming?" "Hum!" said Lady Niton, in a gruff tone, "young ladies can always find new ways of wasting their time." Marsham approached Diana. "We're just off," he said, smiling.
The plain young man, with a shock of fair hair, a merry eye, a short chin, and the spirits of a school-boy, sitting on Lady Niton's left, was, it seemed, the particular pet and protégé of that masterful old lady. Diana remembered to have seen him at tea-time in Miss Drake's train.
"For if he does desert her, under such circumstances, I suppose you know that a great many people will be inclined to cut him? I shall hold my tongue. But, of course, it will come out." With which final shaft she departed, leaving Lady Lucy a little uneasy. She mentioned Elizabeth Niton's "foolish remark" to Mrs. Fotheringham in the course of the evening. Isabel Fotheringham laughed it to scorn.
Lady Niton's face kindled. "Let us be Radicals, my dear," she said, briskly, "but not hypocrites. Garden-parties are invaluable for people you can't ask into the house. By-the-way, wasn't it you, Oliver, who scolded me last night, because I said somebody wasn't 'in Society'?" "You said it of a particular hero of mine," laughed Marsham. "I naturally pitied Society." "What is Society?
But her eyes travelled through the archway dividing the two rooms to the distant figures framed within it Alicia, upright in her corner, the red gold of her hair shining against the background of a white azalea; Oliver, deep in his arm-chair, his long legs crossed, his hands gesticulating. Lady Niton's sarcasms recurred to her. She was not sure whether she welcomed or disliked the idea.
"Well, if Oliver were to tell me from now till doomsday that his heart bled for the poor, I shouldn't believe him. It doesn't bleed. He is as comfortable in his middle region as you or I." Bobbie laughed. "Now look here, I'm simply famished for gossip, and I must have it." Lady Niton's ball of wool fell on the floor. Bobbie pounced upon it, and put it in his pocket. "A hostage!
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