“Yes—and I hope I have made a friend for life,” Mrs. Romsey said with enthusiasm.
“And so do I,” Lady Myrie added.
Mr. Romsey went on with his inquiries.
“Is she a handsome woman?”
Both the ladies answered the question together. Lady Myrie described Mrs. Norman, in one dreadful word, as “Classical.” By comparison with this, Mrs. Romsey’s reply was intelligible. “Not even illness can spoil her beauty!”
“Including the headache she has got to-night?” Mr. Romsey suggested.
“Don’t be ill-natured, dear! Mrs. Norman is here by the advice of one of the first physicians in London; she has suffered under serious troubles, poor thing.”
Mr. Romsey persisted in being ill-natured. “Connected with her husband?” he asked.
Lady Myrie entered a protest. She was a widow; and it was notorious among her friends that the death of her husband had been the happiest event in her married life. But she understood her duty to herself as a respectable woman.
“I think, Mr. Romsey, you might have spared that cruel allusion,” she said with dignity.