"My dear Pie, I cannot allow you to monopolize Sir Mordaunt entirely. She is a savory Pie, but must be cut sometimes. (You forgive my little joke, dear?) I was going to tell you, Sir Mordaunt, of my disappointment in not having secured the most delightful woman to meet you this evening—the person of all others who is a representative of what is noblest, most cultivated, most advanced, among American women."
"Ah!" exclaimed Mordaunt, maliciously. "Of course I know whom you mean. That description can only refer to one woman."
"Do you mean that you have met her?"—this with heavy-eyed surprise.
"Of course I have. Mrs. Courtly and I are great friends."
She threw up her hands, and at the same moment caught Lady Clydesdale's eye by inclining her head a little to one side.
"That woman!" she almost groaned. Then she leaned forward, and said, down the table, with solemnity,
"My dear Lady Clydesdale, will you tell your countryman here that we have nobler types of womanhood than Mrs. Courtly; that in our earnest seeking after the light we entirely repudiate that class of persons—worldly pleasure-seekers, whose influence over the youth of both sexes we hold to be very pernicious."
John Reid and Mordaunt exchanged glances, and in John's was the faintest indication of a twinkle.
"I should not esteem this country as I do if it were made up of Mrs. Courtlys!" said Lady Clydesdale, severely.
"Widows, who only think of ensnaring men!" cried Miss Lobb.