“Yes.”
“Oh, dear me—don’t you know him? That’s Signor Marowski, the celebrated basso profondo. You’ll have an opportunity of judging of his ability, for he is set down in the programme for two of his favourite scenas.”
“Ah—you are going to have some music, then?”
“Dear me—yes. A little bit of a concert, you know. And about an hour, or perhaps more, I think you’ll find we’ve got several crack singers and instrumentalists. We are all lovers of music.”
At this point of the conversation a lady met the two speakers in the side walk.
She was dressed in the height of fashion, and evidently strove to assume a juvenile appearance; but she was not young—neither was she stout; scraggy would, perhaps, be the better term.”
“Oh, glad to have met you,” said Lady Marvlynn, “as it affords me an opportunity of introducing you to my friend, Miss Fagg—Lady Aveline Batershall.”
“I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you before,” said the faded spinster, for such she was, “but have often heard your name mentioned by my friend, Lady Marvlynn.”
“Oh, I dare say,” returned Aveline; “her ladyship is one of my oldest friends.”
“Yes, so I have been given to understand. Most delighted to make your acquaintance.”