“And you have out-bid her?”
“I have done nothing of the sort. The thing was quite settled before the Duke spoke to me.”
“He didn’t lose much time. He must have been pretty sure how he would be received before he wound up with Mabel.”
“I did not discuss that part of it with him.”
“It’s too bad you didn’t discuss less. Poor Mabel is a wreck. The way she is trying to keep up is positively pathetic.”
“Well, my not marrying him would not help her.”
“Augusta, you are wood all through.”
The young matron threw herself back in her chair, and beat her knuckles sharply with her lorgnette. Miss Maitland, who had not spoken for some moments, now unburdened herself.
“I have a good deal to say, Augusta, and I am going to say it. You know we all agreed before we came out that we would regard certain matters in a different light from that of most fashionable girls; we agreed, among other things, that, while enjoying all that our wealth and position offered us, we would read, and think, and endeavour to be of some use in the world—not write polemical novels, or belong to clubs, or anything of that sort, but take the very best advantages of the accident of our birth. And we also agreed—do you remember?—that we would cultivate higher ideals than most women care for—particularly in our relations to each other and to men. It is three years since that subject was discussed; but you remember it, I suppose.”
“I do, and I have not broken it.”