“Are they engaged? Augusta, do be an angel.”
“I am sure I have not the slightest idea whether they are engaged or not. Mabel always has a flirtation on with somebody.”
“What is he like? How perfectly funny! How quiet she has kept him. Is he good-looking—or—well, just like some of the others?”
“Mabel has merely mentioned him to me, and I have not seen his photograph.”
“She’d make a lovely bride; and Mrs. Creighton has such exquisite taste—St. Thomas’ would be a dream, I suppose he’ll wear a grey suit with the trousers turned up and a pink shirt. I do hope he won’t walk up the Avenue with her with a big black cigar in his mouth.”
“Is that what we came here to talk about?” asked Miss Forbes, severely. “What difference does it make what a foreign titled thing looks like? We are here to discuss a question which will one day exterminate the entire order.”
“True,” exclaimed a dark-haired distinguished-looking girl who was mainly responsible for the intellectual reputation of her set, albeit not exempt from the witchery of fads. “We must stop gossiping and attend to business. Do you know that I am expected to speak? How am I to collect my thoughts?”
“You have so many, Alex,” said Miss Forbes, admiringly, “that it wouldn’t matter if a few got loose. Have you prepared your speech? I have mine by heart.”
“I have thought it out. I don’t think I shall be frightened; it is really such a very serious matter.”
“Have you spoken to your father?”