The two young brides had known each other as girls, and now met with, at any rate, an appearance of friendship.
"My dear," said Mrs. Houghton, who was about four years the elder, "of course I know all about it, and so do you. You are an heiress, and could afford to please yourself. I had nothing of my own, and should have had to pass all my time at Manor Cross. Are you surprised?"
"Why should I be surprised?" said Lady George, who was, however, very much surprised at this address.
"Well, you know; he is the handsomest man in England. Everybody allows that; and, then, such a family—and such possibilities! I was very much flattered. Of course he had not seen you then, or
only seen you as a child, or I shouldn't have had a chance. It is a great deal better as it is,—isn't it?"
"I think so, certainly."
"I am so glad to hear that you have a house in town. We go up about the first of April, when the hunting is over. Mr. Houghton does not ride much, but he hunts a great deal. We live in Berkeley Square, you know; and I do so hope we shall see ever so much of you."
"I'm sure I hope so too," said Lady George, who had never hitherto been very fond of Miss De Baron, and had entertained a vague idea that she ought to be a little afraid of Mrs. Houghton. But when her father's guest was so civil to her she did not know how to be other than civil in return.
"There is no reason why what has passed should make any awkwardness;—is there?"
"No," said Lady George, feeling that she almost blushed at the allusion to so delicate a subject.