Part 36 (2/2)
”I was told she made her own gowns,” says another, laughing.
”Pouf!” says Mrs. Chichester. ”That's going a trifle too far. One may make the garment that covers one--I'm sure I don't know, but I've heard it--but no one ever made a _gown_ except a regular clothes woman--a modiste.”
”And, for the matter of that, hers is beautiful. Do you see how the catch at the side of the dress is? It shows the bit of satin lining admirably.”
”Well, but how did she get such a charming gown if she is as you say--well, 'hard up'?”
”Ah! To go into a thing like that! How _rude!”_ says Mrs.
Chichester, going off into a little convulsion of laughter behind her fan.
”Talking of clothes,” says Captain Marryatt at the moment, ”did you ever see anything like Gillam's get up?”
”Gillam? Is that Mrs. Bethune's partner?”
”Yes. Just look at his trousers, his diamonds! How _can_ Mrs.
Bethune stand it all?”
”Perhaps she admires it--the diamonds at all events.”
”'My love in his attire doth show his wit!'” quotes Marryatt, who likes to pose as a man of letters.
”'When the age is in the wit is out,'” quotes Gower in his turn, who can never resist the longing to take the wind out of somebody's sails; ”and, after all, The Everlasting is not a youth! No doubt his intellect is on the wane.”
”He's a cad, poor fellow!” says one the cavalry men from the barracks at Merriton.
”Nonsense!” says the girl with him, a tall, heavy creature. ”Why, his father is a baronet.”
The cavalry man regards her with pity. How _little_ she knows!
”A cad is not always the son of a sweep,” says he, giving his information gently; ”sometimes--he is the son of a prince.”
”Ah! now you are being very funny,” says the girl, who thinks he is trying to be clever.
”Yes, really, isn't he?” says Mrs. Chichester, who knows them both; she is a sort of person who always knows everybody. Give her three days in any neighbourhood whatsoever, and she'll post you up in all the affairs of the residents there as well as if she had dwelt amongst them since the beginning of time. _You,_ who have lived with them for a hundred years, will be nowhere; she'll always be able to tell you something about them you never heard before.
”Isn't he?” says she; she is now regarding the heavy girl with suppressed, but keen, amus.e.m.e.nt. ”And to be funny in this serious age is unpardonable. Don't do it again, Captain Warrender, as you value your life.”
”I shan't!” says he. ”A second attempt might be fatal!”
”How well Mr. Hescott dances!” goes on Mrs. Chichester, who admires Tom Hescott.
”True. The very worst of us, you see, have _one_ good point,” says Gower.
”I don't consider Mr. Hescott the worst of you, by a long way,”
returns she.
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