“No, I’m on the big landing.”
“That’s right.”
“Yes. I told Lottie I simply would not come unless I had a suite.”
“Oh!”—with a gesture of approval—“when one comes to a country house, the least they can do is to make you comfortable. I’ve brought my masseuse, my secretary, and my dogs.”
The company were still discussing racing odds, shares, divorce cases, Yarborough and little slams, and Joseline sat in the background, completely bewildered. All her newly acquired confidence and manners seemed oozing away amid surroundings of inquisitive eyes and languid patronage! Dudley, who on flying visits had been friendly, was now chilly and unsympathetic, and almost ignored her. Tito was engrossed in the company of a thin, clever-looking young man, and she was left to the mercies of strange women, who stared at her in a way that put her out of countenance, and asked such blunt questions.
“And were you really in a cottage in Ireland only three months ago?” inquired Mrs. Fullerton, contemplating her with a look of languid insolence.
“Yes, only three months ago”—and she sighed.
“And is it true that you actually sold fowls?”
“Yes”—colouring—“and eggs as well.”