"Well, I think it was a deadly-lively sort of an evening," says Mr. Browne, candidly, apropos of the ball. "Every one seemed cross, I think, and out of sorts. For my own part, there were moments when I suffered great mental anguish."
"Well, I don't know," says Sir Mark, "for my part, I enjoyed myself rather above the average. Good music, good supper—the champagne I must congratulate you about, Dulce—and very pretty women. What more could even a Sybarite like Dicky desire? Mrs. George Mainwaring was there, and I got on capitally with her. I like a woman who prefers sitting it out, some times."
"I don't think I even saw Mrs. George," says Dulce. "Was she here?"
"You couldn't see her," says Roger; "she spent her entire evening in the rose-colored ante-room with Gore."
"What a shameless tarradiddle," says Sir Mark.
"What did she wear?" asks Julia.
"I can't remember. I think, however, she was all black and blue."
"Good gracious!" says Dicky Browne, "has George Mainwaring been at it again? Poor soul, it is hard on her. I thought the last kicking he had from her brother would have lasted him longer than a month."
"Nonsense, Dicky," says Dulce; "I hear they are getting on wonderfully well together now."
"I'm glad to hear it," says Dicky, in a tone totally unconvinced.