Another guest, Miss Rowley, also a collecting celebrity, was sitting opposite, and turned so pale at the moment, that I was on the point of officiously recommending a glass of water.
"Have you albums in America, Mr. Howard?" inquired a charming young lady on my right.
"There is no lack of them, I assure you,"—I replied.
"Really! Adela, Mr. Howard tells me they have albums in America!" repeated the young lady to a charming sister, near her; while on my left I had the satisfaction of hearing some gratifying remarks from Mr. T——, as to the state of civilization in my native country, as shown by such a fact.
"And what are your albums like?" again inquired my lovely neighbor.
"Not like Lady Holberton's, perhaps—but pretty well for a young nation."
"Oh dear—not like Lady Holberton's of course—hers is quite unique—so full of nice odd things. But are your albums in America at all like ours?"
"Why yes! we get most of them from Paris and London."
"Oh dear! how strange—but don't you long to see this new treasure of Lady Holberton's—that dear nice letter of Otway's, written while he was starving?" inquired the charming Emily, helping herself to a bit of pate de Perigord.
{pate de Perigord = an expensive French delicacy: goose liver pate with truffles.}