“Our respected mother has what you would call a tarnished reputation.” Pat said it in a mild and thoughtful manner, as she and Claudia exercised Billie in the Park to try and keep his figure within reasonable bounds.
“Pat!” exclaimed Claudia, abruptly recalled from her own thoughts. “You have no right to say such things.” Sisters who are not yet out and three years one’s junior must be kept in order.
“Why not? It’s true, I suppose. I was sitting here among a lot of people yesterday and mother drove by. The two women at the back began to talk. At first, I didn’t know they were discussing mother, till they mentioned you. When they said ‘Her daughter Claudia has just got engaged to Gilbert Currey, it’s to be hoped she won’t follow in her mother’s footsteps,’ I twigged.”
“You shouldn’t have listened,” rebuked Claudia indignantly.
“Well, I was hedged in, and I should have had to plough my way over such a lot of feet to get away, and I couldn’t turn round and say ‘Excuse me, you’re discussing my mother and sister,’ could I?”
“I should have got up, feet or no feet,” returned her sister.
“Mother seems to have had a pretty good time, according to these two women. They rattled off mother’s amours with great gusto. They were alternately shocked and envious—the combination was funny.”
“Nasty-minded gossips!”
“I should have liked to turn round and say ‘Sour grapes.’ I suppose mother has gone the pace. She’s been a sort of Helen of Troy, hasn’t she? Notorious for her temperament and beauty.”