“Which conceals the outline of the landscape,” interrupted Mrs. Gnu.
“Cajoling you with a sense of warmth on the very edge of winter, eh?” asked the Sennaar minister.
Another loud laugh rang round the table.
“I thought Minerva Tattle was a friend of yours, Kurz Pacha,” said Mrs. Gnu, smiling mischievously, and playing with her beautiful bouquet, which Mrs. Potiphar told me Timon Croesus had sent her.
“Certainly, so she is,” replied he. “Miss Minerva and I understand each other perfectly. I like her society immensely. The truth is, I am always better in autumn; the air is both cool and bright.”
As he said this he looked fixedly at Mrs. Gnu, and there was not quite so much laughing. I am sure I don’t know what they meant by talking about autumn. I was busy talking with Mr. Firkin about Daisy Clover’s pretty morning dress at the Bowling Alley, and admiring his shirt-bosom. Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and an exquisite bouquet was handed in for Kurz Pacha.
“Why didn’t you wait until to-morrow?” said he, sharply.
The man stammered some excuse, and the ambassador took the flowers. Mrs. Gnu looked at them closely, and praised them very much, and quietly glanced at her own, which were really splendid. Kurz Pacha showed them to all the ladies at table, and then handed them to Mrs. Potiphar, saying to her, as he half looked at Mrs. Gnu:
“There is nothing autumnal here.”
“Mrs. Potiphar thanked him with real delight, and he turned toward Mrs. Gnu, at whom he had been constantly looking, and who was playing placidly with her bouquet, and said with an air of one paying a great compliment: