“Once a Girton girl always a Girton girl, Mrs Bedley.”
“It seems a curate drove her to it....”
“I’m scarcely astonished. Looking back I remember the average curate at home as something between a eunuch and a snigger.”
“Still, dear, I could never renounce my religion. As I said to the dear Chaplain only the other day (while he was having some tea), Oh, if only I were a man, I said! Wouldn’t I like to denounce the disgraceful goings on every Sabbath down the street at the church of the Blue Jesus.”
“And I assure you it’s positively nothing, Mrs Bedley, at the Jesus, to what it is at the church of St Mary the Fair! I was at the wedding of one of the equerries lately, and never saw anything like it.”
“It’s about time there was an English wedding, in my opinion, Mrs Montgomery!”
“There’s not been one in the Colony indeed for some time.”
Mrs Bedley smiled undaunted.
“I trust I may be spared to dance before long at Dr and Mrs Babcock’s!” she exclaimed.
“Kindly leave Cunnie out of it, Mrs Bedley,” Mrs Montgomery begged.