“Did you, Diana?� queried Dr. Cheyney mildly, standing with his hands in his pockets, and a queer smile on his puckered old face.
“I did,� said Diana, very red.
“Whoopee!� exclaimed the doctor, and went off into convulsions of laughter.
Mrs. Eaton’s wrath passed all bounds. “At your age,� she said loftily to Diana, “I should have been ashamed to confess it.�
“I am,� said Diana.
“I’m truly glad of it!� cried Mrs. Eaton.
“Let’s get the stuffing out of it, Jinny,� suggested the colonel mildly.
“I don’t know what you mean,� said Mrs. Eaton stiffly. “I should call that an extremely vulgar expression. I’m very glad that Diana is ashamed, and I only hope it will never occur again. In my day, young ladies of social prominence were careful who they danced with. I’m sure I can’t see any reason for Diana dancing with Mr. Trench. Any one who reads that abominable speech of his at Cresset’s can see, at a glance, that he’s an anarchist.�
“Don’t you think that’s going some, Jinny?� argued the colonel mildly; “you might have said socialist, and still been rather strong.�
“I never could see any difference,� retorted the lady firmly, settling herself in the most comfortable wicker armchair. “An anarchist blows up everything, and a socialist advises you to blow up everything; the difference is altogether too fine for me!�