‘Certainly not,’ said Theodora, in a grave deliberate voice.
‘That’s a mercy!’ said Mrs. Finch. ‘I had not the slightest confidence in you. I always reckoned on your making some wild choice. Oh! by the bye, do tell me where Percy Fotheringham is to be found. I must have him at our first party. What a charming book that is!’
‘Even at Paris every one is full of it, already,’ said Jane. ‘I feel quite jealous of you, Theodora, for knowing him so well, when we, his cousins, never saw him at all.’
‘Cousins in royal fashion,’ said Theodora, glad that the blush had begun for Mr. Wingfield. ‘What is the exact connection?’
‘You explain, Jane; it is past me. I am content to count kindred with the royal beast.’
‘Lady Fotheringham, his uncle’s wife, is sister to Mark’s mother, my uncle’s wife,’ said Jane. ‘There! I trust that is lucidly done.’
‘That is all, is it?’ said Theodora.
‘Enough for the sending of a card. Tell me where, if you know.’
Theodora named the place.
‘Does he show off well? Mark says he has claws—’