“Are you any relation (asked the dowager) to Lady Frances Pelham?”
“Only her son,” said I.
“Dear me,” replied Lady Babbleton, “how odd; what a nice elegant woman she is! She does not go much out, does she? I don’t often meet her.”
“I should not think it likely that your ladyship did meet her much. She does not visit promiscuously.”
“Every rank has its duty,” said Lady Harriett, gravely; “your mother, Mr. Pelham, may confine her circle as much as she pleases; but the high rank of Lady Babbleton requires greater condescension; just as the Dukes of Sussex and Gloucester go to many places where you and I would not.”
“Very true!” said the innocent dowager; “and that’s a very sensible remark! Were you at Bath last winter, Mr. Pelham?” continued the countess, whose thoughts wandered from subject to subject in the most rudderless manner.
“No, Lady Babbleton, I was unfortunately at a less distinguished place.”
“What was that?”
“Paris!”
“Oh, indeed! I’ve never been abroad; I don’t think persons of a certain rank should leave England; they should stay at home and encourage their own manufactories.”