“Good God!” said Nan Day, under her breath. “If that is not the Lafone piece! My dearest Kitty, what insolence!”
“I invited her,” said my Lady Kilcroney, quietly.
“Kitty!”
“By special messenger to-day.”
“Kitty!!!”
“I particularly wished for the presence of Mrs. Lafone here to-night.”
The syren was now approaching, crowned with the very wreath she had cast back at Pamela Pounce, writhing like a lissome snake, in the billows and laces of her changing sea-green ball gown. Nan watched Kitty’s urbanity, and the minx’s unconcealed impertinence with ever-growing amazement.
“Am I too late to see the dear, dear Royals?”
“Unfortunately their Majesties stayed but a short time. The King was feeling unwell.”
“Oh, my dearest Lady Kilcroney, what a disappointment for you!”