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Lord Fondleton! I did not know that he was interested in such subjects. Lady Fritterly. He says he is, dear; between ourselves but this, of course, is strictly entre nous I rather think that it is I who interest him: but I encourage him, poor fellow; it may wean him from the unprofitable life he is leading, and turn his mind to higher things. Oh! I almost forgot, -then there is my new beauty!
Dear Mr Germsell, I was just telling Lady Fritterly what an interesting conversation we were having last night when it was unfortunately interrupted. I shall be so glad if you would explain more fully now what you were telling me. I am sure everybody would be interested. Lady Fritterly. Oh do, Mr Germsell; it would be quite too nice of you. And, Mr Drygull, will you ask the Khoja to Mr Drygull.
Germsell. Pardon me, you do not possess them, Mr Fussle. Lady Fritterly. Mr Fussle, might I ask you to take this cup of tea to Mrs Allmash? Mr Germsell, it would be too kind of you to hand Mrs Gloring the cake. I want you to tell me all about your religion; perhaps it may help us, you know, to find the religion of the future, which we are all longing for.
The result is, that she went to Islington House on Tuesday, and came to me on Thursday, and created a perfect furor on both occasions; so now she is fairly started. Mrs Allmash. How wonderfully clever and fortunate you are, dear! What is her name? Lady Fritterly. Mrs Gloring. Mrs Allmash. Oh yes; everybody was talking about her at the Duchess's last night.
The afternoon tea apparatus in one corner of the room, and Lady Fritterly on a couch in another. The Hon. Mrs Allmash is announced. Lady Fritterly. How too kind, dear, of you to come, and so early, too! I've got such a lot of interesting people coming, and we are going to discuss the religion of the future. Mrs Allmash. How quite delightful!
No; it seems to me more like tic-tic-tic. Mrs Allmash. How too tiresome! I can't hear anything. I suppose it is on account of the rumble of the carriages. Mrs Gloring. No; what? Lord Fondleton. The beating of my own heart. Can't you guess for whom? Mrs Gloring. No. Perhaps the Rishi makes it beat. Lord Fondleton. Dear Mrs Gloring, you are the Rishi for whom Mrs Gloring. Hush! Lady Fritterly.
I am dying to see her; but they say that she is rather a fool. Lady Fritterly. Pure spite and jealousy. Yet that is the way these Christian women of society obey the precept of their religion, and love their neighbours as themselves. Lord Fondleton. How d'ye do, Lady Fritterly?
If you will only all of you listen attentively, and if Mr Germsell will have the goodness to modify to some degree the prejudiced attitude of mind common to all men of science, you will hear him as plainly as I can at this moment beating a tom-tom in his cottage in the Himalayas. Now please, Lady Fritterly, I must request a few moments of the most profound silence on the part of all.
Mr Fussle, I know it is useless to expect you; and I cannot venture to ask Mr Rollestone to anything so frivolous. But perhaps you will dine with me on Thursday you will meet some congenial spirits. Rollestone. Thank you, but I fear it will be impossible, as I leave London to-morrow. Good-bye, Lady Fritterly.
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