"What has become of your young friend, Mr. Athelstone?" asks a pretty, fair woman, as she puts down her cup, and turns to the presiding goddess of the ceremonies—a big, imposing-looking woman, magnificently dressed.
"He's in Rome still," she answers, with a strong American accent. "Means to stay there, too, I surmise—leastways, until the Vavasours come to town. Wonderful pretty woman Lady Vavasour—Lady Lauraine, as the poetry man calls her. You know that story?"
"No," chime in two or three voices. "What was it?"
"Well, he was an Italian," says the lady, who rejoices in the name of Mrs. Bradshaw B. Woollffe, "and very poor, I believe, living in a garret, and that sort, but a right down poet, so every one says now, and Lady Vavasour found him out, and had his book published, and it took like wildfire and of course he's eternal grateful to her, and he wrote something on her—called her 'My Lady Lauraine'—sounds pretty, don't it—and the name was taken up, and in Rome no one called her anything else. She was quite the sensation of the day there; but she is wonderful pretty, and no pumpkins about that."
"She's been married—let me see——"
"Two years, just upon. She's very delicate—that's why they went to Rome. Chest, or lungs, or something. An almighty pretty baby she's got too, and don't she seem fond of it! As a rule, mothers nowadays don't even bother their heads about their children—'ceptin' to dress 'em like dolls, and take 'em out as a show in their carriages."
One or two fashionable mothers present wince a little at Mrs. Bradshaw B. Woollffe's outspoken opinion, and feel more than ever convinced that she is dreadfully vulgar, and really it would be quite impossible to know her, only she is so amazingly rich.
"And she and Mr. Athelstone are great friends, you say?" questions another voice.
"Yes," answers Mrs. Bradshaw B. Woollffe shortly. "Knew each other as children; brought up as brother and sister, and all that."
"How very charming," simpers an inane-looking model of fashion, settling her bonnet strings, and wishing that some men would take it into their heads to drop in and relieve the monotony of feminine society. "That sort of relationship is so free and easy, and no one can say anything. But I heard that the Vavasours are coming back for the season?"