Bent. I thought you were coming to tea this evening."
"Surely it was for tomorrow, was it not?" answered The Dancing Master. "I
understood...I fancied...I'm so sorry...How very unfortunate!..."
But Mrs. Mallowe had passed on.
"For the practiced equivocator you said he was," murmured Mrs. Hauksbee, "he
strikes me as a failure. Now wherefore should he have preferred a walk with
The Dowd to tea with us? Elective affinities, I suppose--both grubby. Polly,
I'd never forgive that woman as long as the world rolls."
"I forgive every woman everything," said Mrs. Mallowe. "He will be a
sufficient punishment for her. What a common voice she has!"
Mrs. Delville's voice was not pretty, her carriage was even less lovely, and
her raiment was strikingly neglected. All these things Mrs. Mallowe noticed
over the top of a magazine.
"Now what is there in her?" said Mrs. Hauksbee. "Do you see what I meant about
the clothes falling off? If I were a man I would perish sooner than be seen
with that rag-bag. And yet, she has good eyes, but--oh!"
"What is it?"
"She doesn't know how to use them! On my Honor, she does not. Look! Oh look!
Untidiness I can endure, but ignorance never! The woman's a fool."
"H'sh! She'll hear you.
Pages:
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437