'Then you are released from imaginary evils,—that must be a comfort.'
'Do you know,' said Stuart, 'I think the toilet is a fine art?'
She did not answer, looking at two or three somewhat remarkable specimens of the art that just then swept by.
'Who is Miss Fisher, Mr. Nightingale?' she asked suddenly.
'O don't you know Kitty? To be sure, she has just come.'
'No, I do not know her. May I know who she is?'
'Not to know her, argues—Well, it isn't so extreme a case as that. Miss Fisher, for character, is the most amiable of persons; for accomplishments, she can do everything; for connections, (do you always want to know people's connections?) she is a niece, I believe, of Dr. Maryland's.'
'Of Dr. Maryland's!—O that is good,' said Wych Hazel. 'Is she like Primrose?'
'She is more—like—a purple snap dragon,' said Stuart, reflectively. 'Do you read characters in flowers? and then look out for their moral prototypes in the social world?'
'I do not believe I ever had the credit of "looking out" for anything!—Good evening, Mr. Simms.'