"Ah, my dear Mrs. Nailor, so glad to see you! How well you look! I haven't seen you since that charming evening at Mrs. Creamer's."
"Do you call that charming? What did you think of the dinner?" asked Mrs. Nailor, dryly.
He laughed, and, with a glance around, lowered his voice.
"Well, the champagne was execrable after the first round. Didn't you notice that? You didn't notice it? Oh, you are too amiable to admit it. I am sure you noticed it, for no one in town has such champagne as you."
He licked his lips with reminiscent satisfaction.
"No, I assure you, I am not flattering you. One of my cloth! How dare you charge me with it!" he laughed. "I have said as much to Mrs. Yorke. You ask her if I haven't."
"How is your uncle's health?" inquired Mrs. Nailor.
The young man glanced at her, and the glance appeared to satisfy him.
"Robust isn't the word for it. He bids fair to rival the patriarchs in more than his piety."
Mrs. Nailor smiled. "You don't appear as happy as a dutiful nephew might."