"My dear, you must be mad!"
Alicia smiled, though gravely. She was afraid Lady Niton would find that
what she said was true.
A cross-examination followed, after which Lady Niton sat speechless for
a while. She took a fan out of her large reticule and fanned herself, a
proceeding by which she often protested against the temperature at which
Lady Lucy kept her drawing-room. She then asked for a window to be
opened, and when she had been sufficiently oxygenated she
delivered herself:
"Well, and why not? We really didn't have the picking and choosing of
our mothers or fathers, though Lucy always behaves as though we had--to
the fourth generation. Besides, I always took the side of that poor
creature, and Lucy believed the worst--as usual. Well, and so she's
going to make Oliver back out of it?"
At this point the door opened, and Lady Lucy glided in, clad in a frail
majesty which would have overawed any one but Elizabeth Niton. Alicia
discreetly disappeared, and Lady Niton, after an inquiry as to her
friend's health--delivered, as it were, at the point of the bayonet, and
followed by a flying remark on the absurdity of treating your body as if
it were only given you to be harried--plunged headlong into the great
topic.
Pages:
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382