Grace.
Oh, I’m quite well, thank you.
Mrs. Insoley.
Am I mistaken in thinking you have rouge on your cheeks?
Grace.
I’ve not been sleeping very well, and I didn’t want to look ill.
Mrs. Insoley.
In my young days ladies did not paint their faces.
Grace.
[With suppressed rage.] We don’t live in your young days, and I’m not a lady.