"No occasion for that, I hope? Mrs. Schröder," said Churchill; "the slaves of the lamp, you know!"
"Oh, there! that horrible business! your constant excuse; you're all alike. Gustav! Gustav! here's Mr. Churchill excusing himself from being late, and pleads business; take him away, and discuss the wretched subject together. I want to talk to Barbara,--a long talk. No, Gustav! I don't care what you say about my duties as hostess: I will talk to my old friend!" So Schröder and Churchill went off, and Alice and Barbara seated themselves in a far window.
"Now, Barbara dear, tell me every thing. I needn't ask you if you're happy; that's a matter of course. Do you like your house? Is the boudoir in pale-green silk, as we always said we'd have it? Mine's in rose-colour; but that's Gustav's taste; I always liked your notion best."
"My boudoir, Alice? you forget."
"Oh, so I do. How ridiculous! But look here, Barbara darling; you'll come out for a drive with me whenever I fetch you?"
"Oh, thanks, Alice; I'm too far out of your way to be fetched often."
"Not a bit, Barbara; what else have the horses to do? though it is a difficult place to find out. Edwards--the coachman, I mean--had never heard of it, though he knows all sorts of short cuts; and we had to ask our way perpetually."
Barbara had something on the tip of her tongue, but it was never framed into words. She contented herself with saying, "the situation is handy for my husband, you know. I should not like the thought that he had far to come late at night."
"Oh! is he ever out late at night? How dreadful! how dull you must be! how wretched for you! I should make my maid sit up and read me to sleep."
"There has been no need for any such violent measures at present," said Barbara, with a slight smile. "Frank has managed to do his work at home, hitherto; but of course there may be occasions when he will be obliged to be out."