"Oh, the usual London life!" she replied nonchalantly. "Theatre, Park, Ball, Church--Church, Ball, Park, Theatre. The only change you can get is to reverse them."
"You young girls don't know how to enjoy yourselves in a rational way," said Miss Corbin, politely; "you ought to marry and settle down."
"That's your advice to everyone, Aunt Jelly," retorted Victoria, her cheeks growing hot; "but you have not practised what you now preach."
"Circumstances alter cases, child," returned Aunt Jelly, composedly. "I had my reasons--you, no doubt, would call them ridiculous reasons--but they were good enough for me."
Victoria did not know of the old love romance between her father and this faded beauty, or she would never have spoken as she did; but as Miss Corbin, with a softened look in her eyes, bent over her work, she felt vaguely that this sharp-tongued woman had suffered, and touched the withered hand with a pretty gesture of penitence.
"I suppose you have quite forgotten Como, Miss Sheldon?" said Eustace, remembering his promise to Otterburn, and artfully trying to find out if she still remembered the boy.
"Oh, no! I liked Como very much! The scenery was delightful."
She spoke quietly enough, but Eustace was an acute observer of human nature, and his keen ear caught an inflection of a tremor in her voice which considerably guided him in framing his next remark.
"Yes, the scenery was charming, was it not?" he remarked significantly; "and the friends we met there also. What a pleasant party we were. The Erringtons, Mrs. Trubbles, yourself and--Macjean."
"And what has become of Mr. Macjean?" she asked in a low voice, taking up Aunt Jelly's ball of wool.