'I suppose they don't carry the same signification,' said Dacier, in the tone of a pupil to such themes.
'They carry no feeling,' said she. 'And that is my excuse for plucking these, where they seem to spring like our town-dream of happiness. I believe they are sensible of it too; but these must do service to my invalid friend, who cannot travel. Are you ever as much interested in the woes of great ladies as of country damsels? I am not—not unless they have natural distinction. You have met Lady Dunstane?'
The question sounded artless. Dacier answered that he thought he had seen her somewhere once, and Diana shut her lips on a rising under-smile.
'She is the coeur d'or of our time; the one soul I would sacrifice these flowers to.'
'A bit of a blue-stocking, I think I have heard said.'
'She might have been admitted to the Hotel Rambouillet, without being anything of a Precieuse. She is the woman of the largest heart now beating.'
'Mr. Redworth talked of her.'
'As she deserved, I am sure.'
'Very warmly.'
'He would!'