“There she sits all day, reading Russian novels. Talk of gloom!”
“Really?”
“Oh, it is!”
“Well.... I’m fond of thoughtful, theosophical reading, too, Mr. Smee,” Mrs. Sixsmith said. “Madame Blavatsky and Mrs. Annie Besant are both favourites with me.”
Mr. Smee jerked an eloquent thumb.
“Who have you brought along?”
“She’s a special pal of mine.”
“Married?”
“Mon Dieu,” Mrs. Sixsmith doubtfully said. “Je crois que c’est une Pucelle.”
“Never!” Mr. Smee, completely mystified, hazarded.