"And I, Holmnest," echoed Mrs. Gower, "poor Norman has but to stand in the market-place."
"I think they have both lowered their social standing; don't you, Mrs. Tremaine?" said Mrs. Smyth.
"I do, indeed."
"It altogether depends upon their bank account," said their hostess, sententiously; "and now for your next, for your mouth is still full of news, dear."
"Oh, yes; but my next is a bona fide married couple."
"But are they according to the Church Prayer Book?" said Mrs. Dale, with her innocent air.
"Oh, yes, certainly; and some say she is like a china doll, and the husband, a great big, ugly, black-looking tyrant; but the gentlemen are coming, and I must cut it short, and only say that a man handsome as Lucifer."
"Before the fall, I suppose," said her hostess.
"Yes, yes, you naughty woman. Well, they say this handsome fellow is there whenever the husband is out, and a pock-marked red-headed boy (some say their son) is there to watch the pretty wife, and their name is St. Clair." Sensation!
At this moment a pin is ran into the arm of the breathless narrator.