"Oh, oh!" she cried, covering her face as she had done in the church. "I cannot bear the misery behind his smiles."
CHAPTER X
AFTER THREE YEARS
"I am growing older and older," said Betty Kirtling.
Lady Randolph, looking up from a paper, peered through her glasses at charms which Time had embellished rather than diminished. Betty had passed her twenty-second birthday; she had begun her fifth season; but by virtue of high health and spirits she still retained the bloom and freshness of the débutante. She stood at the middle window of the morning-room of Randolph House, the big brown house at the corner of Belgrave Square, from whose hospitable doors Archibald and Mark Samphire had driven to Lord's Cricket Ground when they were Harrow boys. Outside, a May sun was shining after a shower; and in the puddles on the balcony some sparrows were taking their bath. Betty was reflecting that London sparrows must be very uncomfortable in a dry summer.
"Are you wiser?" Lady Randolph asked.
"I know that sparrows wash themselves, and that skylarks don't," Betty replied. "I suppose the London sparrows had to bathe, and that they learned to love it. How jolly they look, splashing about. That must be a cock bird. Do you see? He takes a whole puddle to himself."
Lady Randolph laid down the Morning Post.
"Archibald Samphire has been made a minor canon of Westchester," she said abruptly.
Betty slightly turned her head. Lady Randolph perceived a faint pink blush tinging the whiteness of her neck.