Charlotte.
And you nominated yourself for the Matrimonial Stakes. Mr. Farringdon’s The Widow, by Bereavement, out of Mourning, ten pounds extra.
Agatha Posket.
Yes, Charley, and in less than a month I went triumphantly over the course. But, Charley dear, I didn’t carry the fair weight for age—and that’s my trouble.
Charlotte.
Oh, dear!
Agatha Posket.
Undervaluing Æneas’ love, in a moment of, I hope, not unjustifiable vanity, I took five years from my total, which made me thirty-one on my wedding morning.
Charlotte.
Well, dear, many a misguided woman has done that before you.