Mr. Talboys drew his friend
aside and proposed to him to go back again. The senior was aghast.
"Don't be so precipitate," was all that he could urge this time.
"Confound the fellow! Yes, if that is the man she prefers to you, I
will go home with you to-morrow, and the vile hussy shall never enter
my doors again."
In this mind the pair went devious to their dressing-rooms.
One day a witty woman said of a man that "he played the politician
about turnips and cabbages." That might be retorted (by a snob and
brute) on her own sex in general, and upon Mrs. Bazalgette in
particular. This sweet lady maneuvered on a carpet like Marlborough on
the south of France. She was brimful of resources, and they all tended
toward one sacred object, getting her own way. She could be imperious
at a pinch and knock down opposition; but she liked far better to
undermine it, dissolve it, or evade it. She was too much of a woman to
run straight to her _je-le-veux,_ so long as she could wind
thitherward serpentinely and by detour. She could have said to Mr.
Hardie, "You will take down Lucy to dinner," and to Mr. Dodd, "You
will sit next me"; but no, she must mold her males--as per sample.
To Mr. Fountain she said, "Your friend, I hear, is of old family."
"Came in with the Conqueror, madam."
"Then he shall take me down: that will be the first step toward
conquering me--ha! ha!" Fountain bowed, well pleased.
To Mr. Hardie she said, "Will you take down Lucy to-day? I see she
enjoys your conversation.
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