"How terrible must be the sufferings of these poor Moorish infidels! It is impossible to escape from agony, mental and physical, in any part of the world."
Meanwhile, Mrs. Verulam suffered under a very delightful infliction of the darkness. At Mr. Pettingham's parties people very often heard themselves talked about, as the want of light rendered it impossible to see who was who and who was where. Therefore the injudicious were constantly prone to allow their opinions to be known by those whom they most nearly concerned. While the Lady Pearl was pouring her very creditable heart-woes, or secret consciousness of gouty tendency, into the ears of the supposed Mr. Van Adam, a woman's voice broke upon Mrs. Verulam's unoccupied ears.
"Did you see them come in?" it whispered, apparently carrying on an already begun conversation.
"Yes," replied another murmuring female voice.
"Did you like her gown?"
"Pretty well. I am certain it must have come from Violette's."
"Oh, I thought she got all her gowns in Paris!"
"My dear, she says so."
"She does her hair well."
"Yes. But I am not sure whether it suits her broadened out so very much over the temples. I thought it looked a little exaggerated, but I daresay the men like that."