Lady B.—“Well then, it was one evening on coming home from a banquet, he told me I was damned pretty.”
La Comtesse.—“Did he? (kissing her.) Well, so you are.”
Lady B.—“How would you say that in French? Would you say jolie à faire ... damner?”
La Comtesse.—“Jolie en diable would be better.”
Lady B.—“I forgave him that night; he had been dining, as only our husbands in England know how to dine.... When my husband comes home late, I always wait up for him. Do you for yours?”
La Comtesse.—“Of course I do, always. Besides, when the Count has dined out, he is so entertaining.”
Lady B.—“I cannot say the same of Lord B.: he is a little bit dull in his cups.”
La Comtesse.—“Well, dear, you were saying that you were at the Opera one night in a low-necked dress, and that....”
Lady B.—“Yes, true. I was forgetting; do lend me a needleful of your pink silk.... Oh! that is soon told: it was neither an event nor an adventure. As I told you, I was seated in my box.... Well, during one of the entr’actes, two gentlemen came and took up their position in front of me, and never took their eyes off my corsage the whole time. I was indignant.”
La Comtesse.—“You were wrong. When we indulge our coquetry to satisfy our vanity, we ought to be willing to put up with the consequences.”