‘I consented the other night, and I retract my consent to-day; and I am consistent, for that is indecision.’
‘You are consistent in being charming,’ said Lord Eugene.
‘Pleasing and original!’ said Edith. ‘By-the-bye, when I consented that the melancholy Jaques should be one of my aides-de-camp I expected him to maintain his reputation, not only for gloom but wit. I think you had better go back to the forest, Lord Eugene, and see if you cannot stumble upon a fool who may drill you in repartee. How do you do, Lady Riddlesworth?’ and she bowed to two ladies who seemed inclined to stop, but Edith added, ‘I heard great applications for you this moment on the terrace.’
‘Indeed!’ exclaimed the ladies; and they moved on.
‘When Lady Riddlesworth joins the conversation it is like a stoppage in the streets. I invented a piece of intelligence to clear the way, as you would call out Fire! or The queen is coming! There used to be things called vers de société, which were not poetry; and I do not see why there should not be social illusions which are not fibs.’
‘I entirely agree with you,’ said Lord Milford; ‘and I move that we practise them on a large scale.’
‘Like the verses, they might make life more light,’ said Lady Theresa.
‘We are surrounded by illusions,’ said Lord Eugene, in a melancholy tone.
‘And shams of all descriptions,’ said Edith; ‘the greatest, a man who pretends he has a broken heart when all the time he is full of fun.’
‘There are a great many men who have broken hearts,’ said Lord Beaumanoir, smiling sorrowfully.