“Oh? Had she a party?”
“A curé or two, and the Countess Yvorra.”
“Her black bordered envelopes make one shiver!”
“I thought I should have died it was so dull,” Mademoiselle Olga Blumenghast averred, standing aside to allow his Lankiness, Prince Olaf (a little boy wracked by all the troubles of Spring), and Mrs Montgomery, the Royal Governess, to pass. They had been out evidently among the crowd, and both were laughing heartily at the asides they had overheard.
“’Ow can you be so frivolous, your royal ’ighness?” Mrs Montgomery was expostulating: “for shame, wicked boy! For shame!” And her cheery British laugh echoed gaily down the corridors.
“Well I took tea at the Ritz,” Mademoiselle de Lambèse related.
“Anybody?”
“Quite a few!”
“There’s a rumour that Prince Yousef is entertaining there to-night.”
Mademoiselle Blumenghast tittered.