'I suppose she likes parties,' said Sir Damask.
'Likes parties! She'd like to get somebody to take her. It's twelve years now since Georgiana Longestaffe came out. I remember being told of the time when I was first entered myself. Yes, my dear, you know all about it, I dare say. And there she is still. I can feel for her, and do feel for her. But if she will let herself down in that way she can't expect not to be dropped. You remember the woman;--don't you?'
'What woman?'
'Madame Melmotte?'
'Never saw her in my life.'
'Oh yes, you did. You took me there that night when Prince--danced with the girl. Don't you remember the blowsy fat woman at the top of the stairs;--a regular horror?'
'Didn't look at her. I was only thinking what a lot of money it all cost.'
'I remember her, and if Georgiana Longestaffe thinks I'm going there to make an acquaintance with Madame Melmotte she is very much mistaken. And if she thinks that that is the way to get married, I think she is mistaken again.' Nothing perhaps is so efficacious in preventing men from marrying as the tone in which married women speak of the struggles made in that direction by their unmarried friends.