An elderly woman, whose face showed the ravages of time upon what must have been considerable beauty (somehow she looked rather disreputable), had referred to visits she had paid, when in London for the season, to a sister who lived in Eccleston Square.
"Such a dreadful neighbourhood!" she complained. "It made me quite ill to go there."
"I love it," declared Lady Ludlow.
"That part of London!" exclaimed the faded beauty.
"Why not? Whatever life may be there, it is honest in its unconcealment. And to be genuine is to be noble."
"You're joking, Kate," protested the faded beauty.
"I'm doing nothing of the kind. Give me Pimlico," declared Lady Ludlow emphatically.
At mention of Pimlico, Mavis and Windebank involuntarily glanced into each other's eyes; the name of this district recalled many memories to their minds.
When dinner was over, Mavis had hardly reached the drawing-room with the women-folk, when Lady Ludlow pounced upon her.
"I've been so anxious to meet you," she declared. "You're one of the lucky ones."