"Oh! did you? Do tell me about it. It was fine, wasn't it? Don't you think he's lovely?"
"Get him to tell you about it." I was relieved at that moment at a chance to escape her. I saw my hostess talking to a middle-aged, overdressed, but handsome woman whose face somehow haunted me with a reminiscence which I could not quite place, and as I happened to look in a mirror I saw they were talking of me, so I bowed to my young lady and moved on. The visitor asked who I was, and I could see the hostess reply that she had not the slightest idea. She put up her lorgnon and scrutinized me attentively and then shook her head again. I walked over to where they sat.
"We were just saying, Mr.—ah—ah—Laze, that one who undertakes to do a little for one's fellow-beings finds very little encouragement." She spoke almost plaintively, looking first at me and then at her friend, who had been taking an inventory of the west side of the room and had not the slightest idea of what she was talking.
"I am overrun with beggars," she proceeded.
Remembering her great reputation for charity, I thought this natural and suggested as much. She was pleased with my sympathy, and continued:
"Why, they invade me even in the privacy of my home. Not long ago, a person called and, though I had given instructions to my butler to deny me to persons, unless he knew their business and I know them, this man, who was a preacher and should have known better, pushed himself in and actually got into my drawing-room when I was receiving some of my friends. As he saw me, of course I could not excuse myself, and do you know, he had the insolence, not only to dictate to me how I should spend my money, but actually how I should manage my affairs!"
"Oh! dear, think of that!" sighed the other lady. "And you, of all people!"
I admitted that this was extraordinary, and, manifestly encouraged, Mrs. Argand swept on.
"Why, he actually wanted me to forego my rents and let a person stay in one of my houses who would not pay his rent!"
"Incredible!"