"No—not exactly, my dear"—patronisingly. "But I'll promise to introduce you in the morning."
"Oh, will you? How perfectly gorgeous! You are a dear! But how have you managed it? Tell me all about it! I'm simply dying to know how you succeeded!"
"It wasn't at all difficult"—in naïve self-disparagement. "I met Mr. Bliss. He's simply charming, and so unaffected! He is going to tell me all about the art schools in Paris—of course, I'm terribly interested! There are three in their party, you know—Mr. Bliss and his daughter, and Monsieur Laparde."
"Do you think she's pretty? I don't see what all the men are raving about! And did you notice her dress to-night—those black velvet shoulder straps are actually startling!"
"Yes—aren't they? I've heard so many remarks about them! But I suppose she is pretty—in a way. It's being whispered around that she is going to marry Monsieur Laparde. I wonder if it's true?"
"Huh!"—with a sniff. "Well, if it is true, Monsieur Laparde does not do what I would do if I were a man in his place. It's simply outrageous the way she carries on, if she's engaged. I wouldn't stand it for a moment! She must have the wool pretty thoroughly pulled over his eyes, if he imagines she is in love with him!"
"In love with his name, my dear"—in cooing amendment. "I don't suppose she does care for anything else. She doesn't appeal to me as that kind of a woman. I'm sure I think just as you do about her. I wouldn't care to trust her very far from what I've seen of her—she's the sort that always strikes me as being capable of saying anything behind one's back! She flirts mercilessly!"
"Yes; and fancy a man like Monsieur Laparde permitting himself to be made ridiculous! Did you notice this morning, when everybody wanted to walk, that the deck was utterly impassable with her court spreading their chairs two or three deep all around her? Of course, one can't say anything! And all the time she had Monsieur Laparde trotting back and forth like an overgrown errand boy, carrying books and wraps and—"
"No, my dear, you are quite wrong there. She couldn't make a man like Monsieur Laparde ridiculous—she could only make one feel sorry for him."
"Well, anyway, it's quite evident that she—oh, isn't that Lord Mornely just going inside? Gracious, I had no idea I was getting so cold! Do come! I'm nearly perished! We'll catch our deaths out here!"