“Do you think she’ll ever learn?” murmured another. “He’s really clever.”
They turned suddenly.
“We were just admiring your house,” exclaimed Mrs. Carewe. “This room . . .”
“Oh, I’m so glad you like it!” Marjorie’s voice trembled with happiness. “I feel very small in such grandeur, but we’re not using the top floor at all, and that helps a little. It was fortunate that our furniture was dark, wasn’t it? I used to think there was nothing more gorgeous than a gold drawing-room suite, but even if I could have it, it wouldn’t do at all in here, would it?”
“Positively not!” agreed the ladies, heartily.
At the other end of the room, a group of Ottawa’s youthful Smart Set sought to extract a modicum of enjoyment from what they termed a dee-dee party.
“They’re getting damnder and duller,” sighed one.
“I thought nothing could beat Lady Denby’s, but this has it skinned to a finish!”
“Can’t any one think of a funny stunt?” asked another. “I’m so bored, I could lie down on the floor and sing hymns.”
“Do it,” dared Mona Carmichael, obviously the leader of the group. “Go on, Zoe . . . I’ll bet my new pink knickers, you haven’t the nerve!”