"Will he stay here long?" asks Miss Blessington's unsuccessful rival, in a low voice, bending down her head.
"I don't know, I'm sure; he is always so full of engagements, and I never allow him to refuse a good invitation on my account."
"Will your wedding be soon, Miss Blessington?" (spoken quietly and firmly).
"I really have not thought about it" (with a little yawn, as if the subject were rather a wearisome one than otherwise); "'sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' I don't suppose I shall be given more than two or three months longer; some time in the spring, I daresay."
"I always think it is a good omen when people are married in the spring," says the young companion, with a dreamy smile; "when the world is beginning all over again, it is right that people's new life should begin with it."
"Do you think so? I don't much believe in omens. May is certainly the best time for Paris. I have set my heart upon seeing the Grand Prix run for; unfortunately, St. John hates Paris."
"All men hate all towns, I think, except American men; 'good Americans when they die go to Paris,' somebody said, didn't they?"
"Did they? It was rather irreverent, don't you think? By-the-by, some one told me in the summer that you were engaged to be married; is it true? I hope you won't think me impertinent for asking."
"Not in the least; but it is not true."
"Really? How odd it is the way those sort of reports get about!"