"No, thank you. I'm sorry that I have not been able to make you understand me. I could not allow our very long friendship to be dropped without a word."
"Don't say—dropped," exclaimed the baronet.
"I do say dropped, Sir Damask. I thought we should have understood each other;—your wife and I. But we haven't. Wherever she might have gone, I should have made it my business to see her; but she feels differently. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, my dear. If you will quarrel, it isn't my doing." Then Sir Damask led Miss Longestaffe out, and put her into Madame Melmotte's carriage. "It's the most absurd thing I ever knew in my life," said the wife as soon as her husband had returned to her. "She hasn't been able to bear to remain down in the country for one season, when all the world knows that her father can't afford to have a house for them in town. Then she condescends to come and stay with these abominations and pretends to feel surprised that her old friends don't run after her. She is old enough to have known better."
"I suppose she likes parties," said Sir Damask.
"Likes parties! She'd like to get somebody to take her. It's twelve years now since Georgiana Longestaffe came out. I remember being told of the time when I was first entered myself. Yes, my dear, you know all about it, I dare say. And there she is still. I can feel for her, and do feel for her. But if she will let herself down in that way she can't expect not to be dropped. You remember the woman;—don't you?"
"What woman?"
"Madame Melmotte?"
"Never saw her in my life."
"Oh yes, you did. You took me there that night when Prince —— danced with the girl. Don't you remember the blowsy fat woman at the top of the stairs;—a regular horror?"