"Oh, Mrs Mountjoy, I am so ashamed of myself!" said Lady Mountjoy, as
she waddled into the room two minutes after the guests had been
assembled. She had a way of waddling that was quite her own, and which
they who knew her best declared that she had adopted in lieu of other
graces of manner. She puffed a little also, and did contrive to attract
peculiar attention. "But I have to be in my carriage every day at the
same hour. I don't know what would be thought of us if we were absent."
Then she turned, with a puff and a waddle, to Miss Abbot. "Dear Lady
Tresham was with us." Mrs. Mountjoy murmured something as to her
satisfaction at not having delayed the carriage-party, and bethought
herself how exactly similar had been the excuse made by Sir Magnus
himself. Then Lady Mountjoy gave another little puff, and assured
Florence that she hoped she would find Brussels sufficiently gay,--"not
that we pretend at all to equal Paris."
"We live at Cheltenham," said Florence, "and that is not at all like
Paris. Indeed, I never slept but two nights at Paris in my life."
"Then we shall do very well at Brussels." After this she waddled off
again, and was stopped in her waddling by Sir Magnus, who sternly
desired her to prepare for the august ceremony of going in to dinner.
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