“He addresses the ceiling, the walls, the floor—me never!”
“Dear dove.”
“All I can I’m plastic.”
“Can one be plastic ever enough, dear?”
“Often but for Olga ...” the Countess murmured, considering a little rosy ladybird on her arm.
“I consider her ever so compelling, ever so wistful—” the Duchess of Varna averred.
“Sweet girl—! She’s just my consolation.”
“She reminds me, does she you, of that Miss Hobart in de Grammont’s Memoirs.”
“C’est une ame exquise!”
“Well au revoir, dear: We shall meet again at the Princess Leucippe’s later on,” the duchess said, detecting her gardener in the offing.