'The amount the French eat is appalling!' exclaimed Lord Findon—without noticing. 'And they have such ridiculous ideas about us! I said something about their gluttony to M. de Villeton this morning—and he fired up!—declared he had spent this summer in English country-houses, and we had seven meals a day—all told—and there wasn't a Frenchman in the world had more than three—counting his coffee in the morning.'
'He had us there,' said Eugénie.
'Not at all! It doesn't matter when you eat—it's what and how much you eat. We can't produce such women as one sees here. I tell you, Eugénie, we can't. It takes all the poetry out of the sex.'
Eugénie smiled.
'Haven't you been walking with Lady Marney, papa?'
Lord Findon looked a little annoyed.
'She's an exception, my dear—a hideous exception.'
'I wouldn't mind her size,' said Eugénie, softly—'if only the complexion were better done.'
Lord Findon laughed.
'Paint is on the increase,' he declared—'and gambling too. Villeton tells me there was baccarat in the Marney's' apartment last night, and Lady Marney lost enormously. Age seems to have no effect on these people. She must be nearly seventy-five.'