The guest would murmur his excuses. “Mn-mn-mn—his wife a trifle indisposed. Certainly very sorry.” Then another would arrive, and the same question call forth the same reply.
By its constant repetition this phrase “All alone?” had eventually become a jest in the vestibule; lackeys and footmen threw it at each other whenever there entered a new guest “all alone!” And we laughed and were put in good-humour by it. But M. Nicklauss, with his great experience of the world, deemed this almost general abstention of the fair sex unnatural.
“It must be the article in the Messenger,” said he.
Everybody was talking about it, this rascally article, and before the mirror garlanded with flowers, at which each guest gave a finishing touch to his attire before entering, I surprised fragments of whispered conversation such as this:
“You have read it?”
“It is horrible!”
“Do you think the thing possible?”
“I have no idea. In any case, I preferred not to bring my wife.”
“I have done the same. A man can go everywhere without compromising himself.”
“Certainly. While a woman——”