“Opportunities! What are they?”
“Your beauty for one.”
“Oh, ma! you had that. You still show it.”
To Mrs Girdwood the reply was not unpleasant. She had not lost conceit in that personal appearance that had subdued the heart of the rich retailer; and, but for a disinheriting clause in his will, might have thought of submitting her charms to a second market. But although this restrained her from speculating on matrimony, she was still good for flattery and flirtation.
“Well,” she said, “if I had good looks, what mattered they without money? You have both, my child.”
“And both don’t appear to help me to a husband—such as you want me to have, mamma.”
“It will be your own fault if they don’t. His lordship would never have renewed his acquaintance with us if he didn’t mean something. From what he hinted to me yesterday, I’m sure he has come to Paris on our account. He almost said as much. It is you, Julia, it is you.”
Julia came very near expressing a wish that his lordship was at the bottom of the sea; but knowing how it would annoy her mother, she kept the sentiment to herself. She had just time to get enrobed for the street; as the gentleman was announced. He was still plain Mr Swinton, still travelling incognito, on “seqwet diplomatic business for the Bwitish Government.” So had he stated in confidence to Mrs Girdwood.
Shortly after, Messrs Lucas and Spiller made their appearance, and the party was complete.
It was only to be a promenade on the Boulevards, to end in a little dinner in the Café Riche, Royale, or the Maison Doré.