"Perfectly true," says Mr. Wootton. "Both of them staying at Dunrobin, and engagement publicly announced."
Lord Coltsfoot is heir to a dukedom; Miss Hoard is the result in bullion of iron-works.
"Never!" reiterates Lady Usk. "It is impossible that he can do such a horrible thing! Why, she has one shoulder higher than the other, and red eyes!"
"There are six millions paid down," replies Mr. Wootton, sententiously.
"What the deuce will Mrs. Donnington say?" asks Usk.
"One never announces any marriage," remarks Mr. Wootton, "but there is a universal outcry about what will some lady, married long ago to somebody else, say to it. Curious result of supposed monogamy!"
"It is quite disgusting!" says Lady Usk. "Some of those new people are presentable, but she isn't; and Coltsfoot is so good-looking and so young."
"It is what the French call an 'alliance très comme il faut,'" says Usk, from sheer spirit of contradiction. "The dukedom is as full of holes as an old tin pot; she tinkers it up with her iron and gold; and I bet you that your friend Worth will manage to cut Lady Coltsfoot's gowns so that one shoulder higher than the other will become all the rage next season."
"Of course you set no store on such a simple thing as happiness," says his wife, with acerbity.
"Happiness? Lord, my dear! Happiness was buried with Strephon and Chloe centuries ago! We are amused or bored, we are successful or unsuccessful, we are popular or unpopular, we are somebody or we are nobody, but we are never either happy or miserable."