'It's the same thing,' said Lady Maud vaguely, for she was trying to make up her mind quickly.
'You don't know her,' replied her friend. 'That's [{288}] the reason why you say it's the same thing. Nothing's the same as Mrs. Rushmore.'
'Is she very dreadful?' asked Lady Maud, in some apprehension.
'Dreadful? No! She's very sweet, I think. One of those real, old-fashioned, well-educated New York ladies, and refined right down to the ground. There's only one thing——'
He stopped, trying to find words to express the one thing.
'What is it? All you say about her sounds very nice——'
'She's got the celebrity habit.'
'Lions?' suggested Lady Maud, who understood him.
'Yes,' he assented, 'she's a dandy after lions. She likes them for breakfast, dinner, and tea, with a sandwich thrown in between times. She likes them to talk to, and to look at, and to tell about. That's just a habit, I suppose, like chewing gum, but she'll never get over it at her age. She's got to have a party of some kind every other minute, even here, or she's uneasy at night. But I'm bound to say, with all truth, she does it well. She's a perfect lady, and she always says the right thing and does the right thing. Besides, we're great friends, she and I. We get on beautifully.'
'You're a celebrity,' observed Lady Maud.