Lady Desmond, and Mrs. Storey, escorted by Colonel Dashwood, walked first, Lady Elizabeth took Kate's arm, and Lord Effingham sauntered by her side.
"This is too much for me," panted Lady Elizabeth, "I cannot pass my own door, and, I am only delaying you from your friend; tell Lady Desmond I broke down on the road—pray ring that bell for me, my lord; thank you, good-bye."
"Pray," said Lord Effingham, as he and Kate continued to walk, side by side, "where did Lady Desmond pick up that curious specimen of the genus woman?"
"She did not pick her up, I did—or rather she picked me up, and showed me kind and respectful attention, when less curious specimens of the human race had the taste and discernment to class me, with the children's maids, and nurses, frequenting Kensington Gardens."
"Fairly hit, and deserved, I confess; yet I had hoped you were magnanimous enough to have buried that egregious mistake in oblivion."
"So I do in general, and only remember it when your contempt for something I know to be good, though, perhaps unprepossessing in appearance, recalls to my mind the unfairness of judging the Lord Effingham to-day by the uncourteous stranger of last winter."
He bit his lips in silence for a moment, and then, with a smile of unusual frankness, said—
"A retort from Miss Vernon is like a hair trigger in the hands of an angel with shining wings and snowy drapery; leave such carnal weapons to your imperial cousin; truth, simple and earnest, is at once your shield and spear; better say at once what is now in your mind, without circumlocution. 'You despise a good and a useful woman, who is worth a whole nation of 'vaut riens,' like yourself.' Eh, Miss Vernon?"
"That is rather too strong," said Kate, laughing.