“What’s that odd thing floating, like the ghost of a child unborn?”

“It belongs to Mrs. Mary.”

“There’s a rumour—she refuses a fortune to show herself in Revue.”

“With her hearse-horse tread....”

“Sh——. Harold worships her.”

“Oh, no.”

“He sees things in her that we don’t, perhaps.”

“To some ideas,” Mrs. Sixsmith said, “I suppose she’s very blooming still....”

“If it wasn’t for her figure, which is really a disgrace.”

Miss Iris smiled.