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Freddy, with an air of relief at being reinforced. 'I've been talking to Vida Levering and that funereal sister of hers. 'Oh, Mrs. Fox-Moore! said Lady Whyteleafe, obviously disappointed. 'She's a step-sister, isn't she? 'Yes, yes. Oh, I wish she'd never stepped over my threshold! 'Why? said Mr. Freddy, sticking in his eyeglass. 'Don't, Freddy. Don't look at her. Oh, I wish I were dead!
And I went on about it being a miracle when it turned out even tolerably and, oh, Heaven forgive me! I grew eloquent! 'It's your passion for making speeches, said Mr. Freddy. At which, accountably to Lady Whyteleafe, Mrs. Freddy blushed and stumbled in this particular 'speech. 'I know, I know, she said, carrying it off with an air of comic contrition.
'You talk about some of them being pretty, Farnborough said. 'I didn't see a good-looking one among 'em. 'Ah, you men are so unsophisticated; you missed the fine feathers. 'Plenty o' feathers on the one I heard. 'Yes, but not fine feathers. A man judges of the general effect. We can, at a pinch, see past unbecoming clothes, can't we, Lady Whyteleafe?
'Even Lady Whyteleafe, she said, 'would be satisfied with the attention they paid to their hair. 'Come, you two. Mrs. Freddy was at last impatient. 'Jean's got the really beautiful pictures, showing them to Geoffrey. Let us all go down to help him to decide which is the best. 'Geoffrey? 'Geoffrey Stonor you know him, of course.
Freddy the critical eye that says, 'Now I shall see if I can determine just how miserably conscious you are that dinner's unpardonably late, everybody starving, and since you've only just rung, that you have at least eight minutes still to fill up before you'll hear that you are "served." Lady Whyteleafe leaned against the back of the little periwinkle damask sofa, and waited to see Mrs.
Yes, darling, that's the one. She's only looking like that because you aren't talking to her; and Mrs. Freddy overtook Vida just as she reached the Desert Island where Mrs. Fox-Moore stood, looking seaward for a sail. A few moments later, after ringing for dinner, Mrs. Freddy paused an instant, taking in the fact that Lady Whyteleafe hadn't been made as happy by Mr.
'What have you been doing? She looks as if she wished she were dead. 'That's nothing. She always looks like that, Lady Whyteleafe assured the pair. 'Yes, and she makes it a great favour to come. "I seldom go into society," she writes in her stiff little notes; and you're reminded that way, without her actually setting it down, that she devotes herself to good works.
Nothing would induce me to go and listen to such people! said Miss Dunbarton. Her eyes, as well as Mrs. Heriot's, were riveted on the tall figure, tea-cup in hand, moving away from the table now to make room for some new arrivals, and drawing after her a portion of the company, including Lady Whyteleafe and Richard Farnborough, who one after another had come in a few moments before.
Now, if we got our maids to do those women's hair for them if we lent them our French hats ah, then' Lady Whyteleafe nodded till the pear-shaped pearls in her ears swung out like milk-white bells ringing an alarum 'they'd convert you creatures fast enough then. 'Perhaps "convert" is hardly the word, said Vida, with ironic mouth.
"It's so dreadful," I said, "to see a fresh young girl tied to a worn-out old man." 'Oh! remarked Lady Whyteleafe, genuinely shocked. 'And you said that to Mrs. Freddy nodded with melancholy significance. 'Even when Vida said, "It seems to do well enough sometimes," still I never never remembered the Fox-Moore story!
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