Lady Cantire (to herself). I must say that girl is very much improved in manner since I last saw anything of her.
Mrs. Chatteris (a little later, to Lady Maisie). Have you heard what a treat is in store for us? That delightful Mr. Spurrell is going to give us a reading or a recitation, or something, from his own poems; at least Miss Spelwane is to ask him as soon as the men come in. Only I should have thought that he would be much more likely to consent if you asked him.
Lady Maisie. Would you? I'm sure I don't know why.
Mrs. Chatteris (archly). Oh, he took me in to dinner, you know, and it's quite wonderful how people confide in me, but I suppose they feel I can be trusted. He mentioned a little fact, which gave me the impression that a certain fair lady's wishes would be supreme with him.
Lady Maisie (to herself). The wretch! He has been boasting of my unfortunate letter! (Aloud.) Mr. Spurrell had no business to give you any impression of the kind. And the mere fact that I—that I happened to admire his verses——
Mrs. Chatteris. Exactly! Poets' heads are so easily turned; and, as I said to Captain Thicknesse——
Lady Maisie. Captain Thicknesse! You have been talking about it—to him!
Mrs. Chatteris. I'd no idea you would mind anybody knowing, or I would never have dreamed of—— I've such a perfect horror of gossip! It took me so much by surprise, that I simply couldn't resist. But I can easily tell Captain Thicknesse it was all a mistake; he knows how fearfully inaccurate I always am.
Lady Maisie. I would rather you said nothing more about it, please; it is really not worth while contradicting anything so utterly absurd. (To herself.) That Gerald—Captain Thicknesse—of all people, should know of my letter! And goodness only knows what story she may have made out of it!
Mrs. Chatteris (to herself, as she moves away). I've been letting my tongue run away with me, as usual. She's not the original of "Lady Grisoline," after all. Perhaps he meant Vivien Spelwane—the description was much more like her!