"It would do the town good if it were steeped in his writings," said he.
As this was at a period when like hell you could not mention the name of Zola to ears polite, no one ventured to argue the matter. Mrs. Rushworth's plump faded lips quivered helplessly, and it was with a gush of gratitude that she seized the hand of one of the ladies who rose to take her leave, and save the situation. The little spell of shock was broken. Groups resumed their mysterious conversations, and Paragot swung to the hearth-rug and stood there in solitary defiance. I seized the opportunity to escape from my two damsels. As I passed Lady Molyneux, she turned to her neighbour.
"What a dreadful man!" she said. "I entirely disapprove of Mrs. Rushworth having such persons in her house."
I could have wept with rage. Here was this turtle-brained, ugly woman (so, in my presumption, I called her) daring to speak slightingly of my beloved master who had condescended to speak out of his Olympian wisdom, and no fire from Zeus shrivelled her up! She signified her disapproval with the air of a law-giver, and the other woman acquiesced. I longed to flame into defence of Paragot; but remembering how ill I fared on a similar occasion when a member of the Lotus Club accused him of having led a bear in Warsaw, I wisely held my peace. But I was very angry.
I joined Paragot on the hearth-rug. Presently Joanna came with her silvery laugh.
"You mustn't be so dreadfully emphatic, Gaston," she said.
"Unintelligent women must not lay down the law on matters they don't understand," said Paragot.
"But it was Lady Molyneux."
"Which signifies?"
"The sovereign lady of Melford."