Their intercourse had, however, been of the slightest, being confined to the interchange of a couple of formal visits, and to an invitation by Mrs. Sadgrove to a musical “at home,” at which Mrs. Talmage Eglinton had endeavored to embark on a flirtation with Alec Forsyth.
“She’s a rich widow, I believe; and I don’t think she would ever have been heard of if the Roseville’s hadn’t taken her up,” Mrs. Sadgrove concluded.
The series of grunts with which the General received this information had hardly ceased when again the footman appeared in the doorway and announced, with all due importance:
“His Grace the Duke of Beaumanoir.”
The occupants of the drawing-room were all accustomed to the “usages of polite society,” either in Britannic or Transatlantic form; but it was impossible for them to repress a flutter of excitement as the visitor entered, his original “cavalry swing” marred but not wholly obliterated by his limp. Leonie tried hard not to blush, and failed. Mrs. Sherman interlaced her fingers nervously. Sybil Hanbury stared hard at the cousin whose stately town house she was occupying, and who had waved a magic wand over her lover’s prospects. Mrs.
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