“It’s odd she should so procrastinate; but la jeunesse, c’est le temps ou l’on s’amuse,” Mrs. Mouth blandly declared, seating herself tranquilly by her husband’s side.
“Dair noddin’, I hope, de matteh....”
“Eh, suz, my deah! Eh, suz.” Reassuringly, she tapped his arm.
“Sir Victor Virtue, Lady Bird, Princess Altamisal,” Miami tossed their cards.
“Sh’o it was a charming ebenin’! Doh I was sorry for de duchess, wid de duke, an’ he all nasty drunk wid spirits.”
“I s’poge she use to it.”
“It was a perfect skangle! Howebber, on de whole, it was quite an enjoyable pahty—doh dat music ob Wagner, it gib me de retches.”
“It bore me, too,” Miami confessed, as a couple of underfootmen made their appearance, and joining their fidgeting colleagues by the door, waited for the last guests to depart, in a mocking, whispering group.
“Ef she not here bery soon,” Miami murmured, vexed by the servants’ impertinent smiles.