Mrs. Brinkley, whom she addressed, was of that obesity which seems often to incline people to sarcasm. “No, I don't think he's insincere. I think he always means what he says and does—Well, do you think a little more concentration of good-will would hurt him for Miss Pasmer's purpose—if she has it?”
“Yes, I see,” said Miss Cotton. She waited, with her kind eyes fixed wistfully upon Alice, for the young people to approach and get by. “I wonder what the men think of him?”
“You might ask Miss Anderson,” said Mrs. Brinkley.
“Oh, do you think they tell her?”
“Not that exactly,” said Mrs. Brinkley, shaking with good-humoured pleasure in her joke.
“Her voice—oh yes. She and Alice are great friends, of course.”
“I should think,” said Mrs. Stamwell, the second speaker, “that Mr. Mavering would be jealous sometimes—till he looked twice.”
“Yes,” said Miss Cotton, obliged to admit the force of the remark, but feeling that Mr. Mavering had been carried out of the field of her vision by the turn of the talk. “I suppose,” she continued, “that he wouldn't be so well liked by other young men as she is by other girls, do you think?”
“I don't think, as a rule,” said Mrs. Brinkley, “that men are half so appreciative of one another as women are. It's most amusing to see the open scorn with which two young fellows treat each other if a pretty girl introduces them.”
All the ladies joined in the laugh with which Mrs. Brinkley herself led off. But Miss Cotton stopped laughing first.