Lady Blower's got hold of him."
"Poor wretch! She ought to have a keeper. Strong tea, Robin."
They found a settee in a corner walled in by the backs of tea-drinking
beauties.
"I want to ask you something," said Lady Holme, confidentially. "You go
about and hear what they're saying."
"And greater nonsense it seems each new season."
"Nonsense keeps us alive."
"Is it the oxygen self-administered by an almost moribund society?"
"It's the perfume that prevents us from noticing the stuffiness of the
room. But, Robin, tell me--what is the nonsense of now?"
"Religious, political, theatrical, divorce court or what, Lady Holme?"
He looked at her with a touch of mischief in his dark face, which told
her, and was meant to tell her, that he was on the alert, and had divined
that she had a purpose in thus pleasantly taking possession of him.
"Oh, the people--nonsense. You know perfectly what I mean."
"Whom are they chattering about most at the moment? You'll be
contemptuous if I tell you."
"It's a woman, then?"
"When isn't it?"
"Do I know her?"
"Slightly."
"Well?"
"Miss Schley."
"Really?"
Lady Holme's voice sounded perfectly indifferent and just faintly
surprised. There was no hint of irritation in it.
"And what are they saying about Miss Schley?" she added, sipping her tea
and glancing about the crowded room.
"Oh, many things, and among the many one that's more untrue than all the
rest put together.
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