“Humph!” said Mrs Vanburgh shortly. She was by no means appeased, and during the meal which followed ejaculations of “Prim—prim, indeed!” fell from her lips at intervals like so many minute-guns of indignation, while Christabel ate cakes and scones with undiminished zest, and smiled upon her with patronising indulgence.
In relating the history of the afternoon to Jill, later on, Betty declared that she herself had not spoken a single sentence the whole afternoon. She had exclaimed, “Really!” “Fancy!” “Goodness!” “How killing!” each about a hundred times over, had laughed and smiled, nodded her head and said “Yes” to a dozen propositions, had been unceasingly amused and interested, but had never been allowed a breathing space in which to air her own opinions.
It had been finally decided that “a general frolic” should be held on the following Thursday evening, Christabel proposing, seconding, and triumphantly carrying the resolution that each guest should come prepared to entertain the company for a period of at least five minutes on end. The protesting groans and denials of her companions beat in vain against the rock of her decision. She smiled graciously upon them, and cried—
“Rubbish! Of course you can! Sing, play, dance, recite, read aloud, tell a story, show some new tricks; there’s no end to the things to choose from, my deah! If you begin by protesting and excusing as you are doing now, there will be no time left. It will be too lovelay for words! A sit-down supper, Nan,—no light refreshments, please!—and, as a matter of precaution, as much furniture as possible moved out of the drawing-room. I can’t think why you did not have a parquet floor! People grow so selfish and inconsiderate when they are married. Piteous, I call it!”
“Anything else?” queried Nan loftily. “Selfish, and inconsiderate, and prim, am I? Prim, indeed! I’ll tell Gervase the moment he comes in what a wretched wife he has married! He’d never find it out for himself.”
Chapter Eighteen.
The Party.
“She may request as much as she likes; I’m not going! I wouldn’t go if I were paid for it!” was Miles’ ungallant comment upon receipt of Mrs Vanburgh’s invitation; but before he had time to pen his refusal, Cynthia, in her new character of mentor, issued her regal decree that it should be turned into an acceptance. In vain he grumbled and protested; the silken chains never relaxed their hold.