"A cad is not always the son of a sweep," says he, giving his information gently; "sometimes—he is the son of a prince."
"Ah! now you are being very funny," says the girl, who thinks he is trying to be clever.
"Yes, really, isn't he?" says Mrs. Chichester, who knows them both; she is a sort of person who always knows everybody. Give her three days in any neighbourhood whatsoever, and she'll post you up in all the affairs of the residents there as well as if she had dwelt amongst them since the beginning of time. You, who have lived with them for a hundred years, will be nowhere; she'll always be able to tell you something about them you never heard before.
"Isn't he?" says she; she is now regarding the heavy girl with suppressed, but keen, amusement. "And to be funny in this serious age is unpardonable. Don't do it again, Captain Warrender, as you value your life."
"I shan't!" says he. "A second attempt might be fatal!"
"How well Mr. Hescott dances!" goes on Mrs. Chichester, who admires
Tom Hescott.
"True. The very worst of us, you see, have one good point," says
Gower.
"I don't consider Mr. Hescott the worst of you, by a long way," returns she.
"Oh no, neither do I," says a pretty little woman next to her, a bride of a few weeks, who, with her husband, has just come up.
"I have you on my side then, Lady Selton?" says Mrs. Chichester.