“That I can’t tell you; but it is a Russian prince.”
“Nonsense, Lawrence!” exclaimed his wife, melting altogether now, although the news seemed too good to be true. “It isn’t, really, the least probable.”
“It is the improbable things that always come to pass, I find.”
“I suppose she will live abroad?” said Lady Gwendolyn, with a great affectation of carelessness.
“I dare say.”
“Don’t you mind?” she asked, drawing quite close to him and speaking coaxingly.
“Why should I mind?”
“You are such old friends.”
“Exactly. But, you see, I shall have to cut all my old friends now, since my wife takes it into her head to be jealous of them.”
“Oh, Lawrence!”