"We had dear little Mrs. MacAnder here yesterday, just back from Paris.
And whom d'you think she saw there in the street? You'll never guess."
"We shan't try, Auntie," said Euphemia.
"Irene! Imagine! After all this time; walking with a fair beard...."
"Auntie! you'll kill me! A fair beard...."
"I was going to say," said Aunt Juley severely, "a fair-bearded
gentleman. And not a day older; she was always so pretty," she added,
with a sort of lingering apology.
"Oh! tell us about her, Auntie," cried Imogen; "I can just remember her.
She's the skeleton in the family cupboard, isn't she? And they're such
fun."
Aunt Hester sat down. Really, Juley had done it now!
"She wasn't much of a skeleton as I remember her," murmured Euphemia,
"extremely well-covered."
"My dear!" said Aunt Juley, "what a peculiar way of putting it--not very
nice."
"No, but what was she like?" persisted Imogen.
"I'll tell you, my child," said Francie; "a kind of modern Venus, very
well-dressed."
Euphemia said sharply: "Venus was never dressed, and she had blue eyes
of melting sapphire."
At this juncture Nicholas took his leave.
"Mrs. Nick is awfully strict," said Francie with a laugh.
"She has six children," said Aunt Juley; "it's very proper she should be
careful."
"Was Uncle Soames awfully fond of her?" pursued the inexorable Imogen,
moving her dark luscious eyes from face to face.
Aunt Hester made a gesture of despair, just as Aunt Juley answered:
"Yes, your Uncle Soames was very much attached to her."
"I suppose she ran off with someone?"
"No, certainly not; that is--not precisely.'
"What did she do, then, Auntie?"
"Come along, Imogen," said Winifred, "we must be getting back."
But Aunt Juley interjected resolutely: "She--she didn't behave at all
well."
"Oh, bother!" cried Imogen; "that's as far as I ever get."
"Well, my dear," said Francie, "she had a love affair which ended with
the young man's death; and then she left your uncle. I always rather
liked her."
"She used to give me chocolates," murmured Imogen, "and smell nice."
"Of course!" remarked Euphemia.
"Not of course at all!" replied Francie, who used a particularly
expensive essence of gillyflower herself.
"I can't think what we are about," said Aunt Juley, raising her hands,
"talking of such things!"
"Was she divorced?" asked Imogen from the door.
"Certainly not," cried Aunt Juley; "that is--certainly not."
A sound was heard over by the far door. Timothy had re-entered the back
drawing-room. "I've come for my map," he said. "Who's been divorced?"
"No one, Uncle," replied Francie with perfect truth.
Timothy took his map off the piano.
"Don't let's have anything of that sort in the family," he said. "All
this enlistin's bad enough. The country's breakin' up; I don't know what
we're comin' to." He shook a thick finger at the room: "Too many women
nowadays, and they don't know what they want."