Mrs. Lister.—Ah, here comes Mr. Libriver, with my “Intellectual Life.” Thank you, Mr. Libriver—you are always so kind!
Mrs. Lang.—And Mr. Libriver has brought me my “Status of Woman.” Oh, thank you, Mr. Libriver.
Mr. Libriver, a thin young man in a linen duster, retires, blushing.
Mrs. Lister.—Mr. Libriver does so appreciate women who are free from the bondage of the novel. Did you hear about poor Rhodora’s funeral?
Mrs. Lang (with a sweeping grasp at the intellectual side of the conversation).—Oh, I despise love-stories. In the church? Oh, yes, I heard. (Sweetly). Dr. Homly told me. Doesn’t it seem just a little—ostentatious?
Mrs. Lister.—Ostentatious—but, do you know, my dear, there are to be eight pall-bearers!
Mrs. Lang (turning defeat into victory).—No, I did not know. I don’t suppose that ridiculous old maid, that Miss Wimple, who seems to be conducting the affair, dared to tell that to Dr. Homly. And who are they?
Mrs. Lister (with exceeding sweetness).—Oh, I don’t know, dear. Only I met Mr. Townsend, and he told me that Dr. Homly had just told him that he was one of the eight.
Mrs. Lister.—Dexter Townsend! Why, it’s scandalous. Everybody knows that he proposed to her three times and that she threw him over. It’s an insult to—to—