“So one says; but—you look really, such a colour.”
“No matter what colour I look,” cried Cecilia; “go on.”
“Do you never read the papers?” said Lady Castlefort.
“Sometimes,” said Lady Cecilia; “but I have not looked at a paper these three days; was there any thing particular? tell me.”
“My dear! tell you! as if I could remember by heart all the scandalous paragraphs I read.” She looked round the room, and not seeing the papers, said, “I do not know what has become of those papers; but you can find them when you go home.”
She mentioned the names of two papers, noted for being personal, scandalous, and scurrilous.
“Are those the papers you mean?” cried Lady Cecilia; “the general never lets them into the house.”
“That is a pity—that’s hard upon you, for then you never are, as you see, au courant du jour, and all your friends might be abused to death without your knowing it, if some kind person did not tell you.”
“Do tell me, then, the substance; I don’t want the words.”
“But the words are all. Somehow it is nothing without the words.”