'Well, malheureux en jeu,' said her ladyship maliciously, 'you may take comfort from the rest of the proverb.'
Lady Rich shook her rose-coloured ribbons, a girlish simpleton of forty summers.
'I am vastly ashamed of being so prodigiously ignorant,' said she. 'I daresay I ask a mighty silly question, but what is the rest?'
'French, my dear, and it means that fifteen years is the properest age for a woman to continue at, but why need one be five?'
Colonel Montague smiled grimly. Mr. Wogan stifled a laugh. Lady Rich looked somewhat disconcerted.
'Oh, is that a proverb?' said she with a minauderie. 'I shall dote on proverbs,' and so she simpered out of range.
Lady Mary lifted up her hands.
'Regardez cet animal!' she cried; 'considérez ce néant. There's a pretty soul to be immortal.'
'Your ladyship is cruel,' said Rose in remonstrance.
'Nay, my dear, it is the only way to keep her quiet. My Lady Rich is like a top that hums senselessly. You must whip it hard enough and then it goes to sleep and makes no noise. Mr. Hilton, are you struck dumb?'