Mr. Rush-Marvelle scratched his bony chin perplexedly.
"It makes it a little awkward for--for you," he remarked feelingly.
"Awkward! It is abominable!" And Mrs. Marvelle rose from her chair, and shook out the voluminous train of her silken breakfast-gown, an elaborate combination of crimson with grey chinchilla fur. "I shall have to call on the creature--just imagine it! It is most unfortunate for me that I happen to be one of Bruce-Errington's oldest friends--otherwise I might have passed him over in some way--as it is I can't. But fancy having to meet a great coarse peasant woman, who, I'm certain, will only be able to talk about fish and whale-oil! It is really quite dreadful!"
Mr. Rush-Marvelle permitted himself to smile faintly.
"Let us hope she will not turn out so badly," he said soothingly,--"but, you know, if she proves to be--er--a common person of,--er--a very uneducated type--you can always let her drop gently--quite gently!"
And he waved his skinny hand with an explanatory flourish.
But Mrs. Marvelle did not accept his suggestion in good part.
"You know nothing about it," she said somewhat testily. "Keep to your own business, Montague, such as it is. The law suits your particular form of brain--society does not. You would never be in society at all if it were not for me--now you know you wouldn't!"
"My love," said Mr. Marvelle, with a look of meek admiration at his wife's majestic proportions. "I am aware of it! I always do you justice. You are a remarkable woman!"
Mrs. Marvelle smiled, somewhat mollified. "You see," she then condescended to explain--"the whole thing is so extremely disappointing to me. I wanted Marcia Van Clupp to go in for the Errington stakes,--it would have been such an excellent match,--money on both sides. And Marcia would have been just the girl to look after that place down in Warwickshire--the house is going to rack and ruin, in my opinion."
"Ah, yes!" agreed her husband mildly. "Van Clupp is a fine girl--a very fine girl! No end of 'go' in her. And so Errington Manor needs a good deal of repairing, perhaps?" This query was put by Mr. Marvelle, with his head very much on one side, and his bilious eyes blinking drowsily.
"I don't know about repairs," replied Mrs. Marvelle. "It is a magnificent place, and certainly the grounds are ravishing. But one of the best rooms in the house, is the former Lady Errington's boudoir--it is full of old-fashioned dirty furniture, and Bruce-Errington won't have it touched,--he will insist on keeping it as his mother left it. Now that is ridiculous--perfectly morbid! It's just the same thing with his father's library--he won't have that touched either--and the ceiling wants fresh paint, and the windows want new curtains--and all sorts of things ought to be done. Marcia would have managed all that splendidly--she'd have had everything new throughout--Americans are so quick, and there's no nonsensical antiquated sentiment about Marcia."