“Infernal Bedlam,” he broke out: “the house is sheer pandemonium.”
“I found it so too, dear,” Lady Something agreed; “and so,” she added, removing a fallen tree-bug tranquilly from her hair, “I’ve been digesting my letters out here upon the lawn.”
“And no doubt,” Sir Somebody murmured, fixing the placid person of his wife, with a keen psychological glance: “you succeed, my dear, in digesting them?”
“...” the Ambassador displayed discretion.
“We’re asked to a Lion hunt in the Land of Dates; quite an _entreating_ invitation from the dear Queen--; really most pressing and affectionate, but Princess Elsie’s nuptial negotiations and this pending Procès with the Ritz, may tie us here for some time.”
“Why these constant moans? ...? A clairvoyant once told me I’d ‘the bump of Litigation’--a _cause célèbre_ unmistakably defined; so it’s as well, on the whole, to have it over.”
“And quite probably; had your statement been correct----”
“I’m told it’s simply swarming!” she impenitently said.
“And if you doubt it at all, here is an account direct from the Ritz itself,” her Excellency replied, singling out a letter from among the rest: “It is from dear old General Sir Trotter-Stormer. He says: ‘I am the only guest here. I must say, however, the attendance is beyond all praise, more _soigné_ and better than I’ve ever known it to be, but after what you told me, dear friend, I feel _distinctly uncomfortable_ when the hour for bye-bye comes!’”
“I regard it as of the very first importance! Sir Trotter admits--a distinguished soldier admits, his uneasiness; and who knows, he is so brave about concealing his woes--his two wives left him!--what he may not have patiently and stoically endured?”
“Less I am sure, my dear, than I of late in listening sometimes to you.”
“I will write I think and press him for a more detailed report....”
“She should no more be trusted with ink than a child with firearms!” he declared, addressing himself with studious indirectness to a garden-snail.
“Life is a compound,” she murmured again.
“Particularly for women!” the Authoress agreed.
“Ah, well,” the Ambassadress majestically rose: “I must be off and issue household orders; although I derive hardly my usual amount of enjoyment at present, I regret to say, from my morning consultations with the cook....”