"I really hardly know," Miss Amherst says, coldly. "I--don't go in for that sort of thing. And you,--do you paint?"
("'The Annen Polka,' and on memorable occasions 'The Battle of Prague,'" thinks Marcia, comfortably.) "You sing," she says.
("'Rosalie the Prairie Flower,' and the 'Christy Minstrels' generally," concludes Marcia, inwardly.) "That is charming," she says out loud: "it is so long since we have had any one here with a talent for music."
"Oh," says Molly, biting a little bit off her nail, and then examining her finger in an embarrassed fashion, "you must not use the word talented, that implies so much, and I--really you know I---- Why," starting to her feet, and regaining all her usual impulsive gayety, "that is surely Philip walking across the lawn, and he said he was so busy. Can we not go out, Marcia? The day is so lovely."
"If you want Philip, I dare say one of the servants will bring him to you," says Marcia, insolently.
Just before luncheon the Darleys arrive. Henry Darley, tall, refined, undemonstrative; Mrs. Darley, small and silly, with flaxen hair, blue eyes, pink and white complexion, and a general wax-dollyness about her; and just such a tiny, foolishly obstinate mouth as usually goes with a face like hers. She is vain, but never ill-natured, unless it suits her purpose; frivolous, but in the main harmless; and, although indifferent to her husband,--of whom she is utterly unworthy,--takes care to be thoroughly respectable. Full of the desire, but without the pluck, to go altogether wrong, she skirts around the edges of her pet sins, yet having a care that all those who pass by shall see her garments free of stain.
"I understand my husband, and my husband understands me," she is in the habit of saying to those who will take the trouble to listen; which is strictly true as regards the latter part of the speech, though perhaps the former is not so wise an assertion.
With her she brings her only child, a beautiful little boy of six.
She greets Marcia with effusion, and gushes over Molly.
"So glad, dear, so charmed to make your acquaintance. Have always felt such a deep interest in your poor dear mother's sad but romantic story. So out of the common as it was, you know, and delightfully odd, and--and--all that. Of course you are aware there is a sort of cousinship between us. My father married your----" and so on, and on, and on.