“You have a very fine equipage.”
“You have seen the brougham?” said the Prophet, in some surprise.
“What broom?” buzzed Madame Sagittarius.
“I thought you were admiring—”
“The tea equipage.”
“Oh, yes, to be sure. Queen Anne silver, yes.”
“A great woman!” said Madame Sagittarius, spreading a silk handkerchief that exactly matched the ostrich tips in her bonnet carefully over her velvet lap. “All who have read Mrs. Markham’s work of genius with understanding must hold her name in reverence. A noble creature! A pity she died!”
“A great pity indeed!”
“Still we must remember that Mors omnis communibus. We must not forget that.”
“No, no.”