'Yes, thank heaven! We all want money nowadays, but for my part I'd starve sooner than get it from the Frickers.'
'Oh, that's what you want me to believe?'
'Dearest Sarah, no! That's what I'm afraid her enemies and yours will say.'
'I see,' smiled Mrs. Bonfill indulgently. She always acknowledged that Viola was neat—as a siege-gun might admit it of the field artillery.
'Couldn't you give her a hint? The gossip about Beaufort Chance doesn't so much matter, but——' Lady Blixworth looked as if she expected to be interrupted, even pausing an instant to allow the opportunity. Mrs. Bonfill obliged her.
'There's gossip about Beaufort, is there?'
'Oh, there is, of course—that can't be denied; but it really doesn't matter as long as Mortimer doesn't hear about it.'
'Was there never more than one aspirant at a time when you were young?'
'As long as you're content, I am,' Lady Blixworth declared in an injured manner. 'It's not my business what Mrs. Trevalla does.'
'Don't be huffy,' was Mrs. Bonfill's maternal advice. 'As far as I can see, everything is going splendidly.'