a brain otherwise duly clouded, as fashion requires, by brandy in the morning and absinthe before dinner! Boors don't do those things, nor yet get half as learned as to Mlle. Rose Thé and la Petite Boulotte."
Madame Mila reddened angrily.
"What spiteful things to say; he never looked at that hideous little Boulotte, or any of the horrible creatures, and he never drinks; he is a perfect gentleman."
"Not quite that, ma chère; if he had been, he would never have let himself be called bon enfant by your husband!"
Madame Mila raged in passionate wrath for five minutes, and then began to cry a little, whimperingly.
Lady Hilda gathered up her rivière, took her candlestick, and bade her good night.
"It is no use making that noise, Mila," she said coolly. "You have always known what I think, but you prefer to be in the fashion; of course you must go on as you like; only please to remember,—don't let me see too much of Des Gommeux."
