Mrs. Massarene sighed. She dared not say so, but she thought—of what use had been all the sums flung away at this lovely lady’s bidding in the previous autumn?
“It is no use to waste time on the idiot,” reflected her visitor. “She don’t understand a word one says, and she thinks they can buy Society as if it were a penny bun. Old Billy’s sharper; I wonder he had not the sense to divorce her in the States, or wherever they come from.”
“Where’s your man?” she said impatiently.
“William’s in the City, my lady,” answered Mrs. Massarene proudly. “William, ma’am, is very much thought of in the City.”
“He’s on lots of things, I suppose?”
After some moments’ puzzled reflection his wife replied, “Meaning Boards, ma’am? Yes, he is. They seem they can’t do without him. William had always a wonderful head for business.”
“Ah!” said Lady Kenilworth. “He must put Cocky on some good things. My husband, you know. Everything is done by companies nowadays. Even the Derby favorite is owned by a syndicate. Tell him to put Lord Kenilworth on all his good things, and not to mind if he’s unpunctual. Lord Kenilworth never can understand why half-past two isn’t the same hour as twelve.”
“That won’t do in business, my lady,” said Mrs. Massarene boldly, for here she was sure of her ground. “Five minutes late writes ruin sometimes.”
“Does it indeed? I suppose that’s what makes it so fetching. I am sure it would do Cocky worlds of good; wake him up; give him things to think of.”
“Is my lord a business man, ma’am?” said Mrs. Massarene, with great doubt in her tone.