"Oh, it was so slow! I wonder how I put up with it as long as I did. Didn't you find it slow? I must have gaiety. People tell me I'm a regular gadabout, but--" She laughed--"one's only young once, Mr. Warrener; I believe in having a good time while I can. I say I shall have plenty of time to be on the shelf by-and-by." She was very, very plain. It was while he was thinking how plain she was, how ruthless the years had been to her, that the sudden pity for himself engulfed him--the pathetic consciousness that she must be reflecting how hard the years had been on _him_. "It can't be difficult for you to have a good time," he returned, labouredly light. "Well, I don't think it is," she declared; she tossed her large head, and rolled colourless eyes at him archly. "People tell me I've quite woke Tooting up since I've been here, and I must say I've done my best. I must _lead_. I mean to say if I'd been a man I should have liked to be a great politician, or a great general, you know." "You could be nothing more potent than Mrs. Barchester-Bailey." "Oh now that's very sweet of you!" she said. "But I mean to say I must _lead_. I started the Tooting 'Thursdays.' You mustn't think I'm just a frivolous little woman who cares for nothing but pleasure--I'm--I'm very interested in literature too. At the 'Thursdays' we have literary discussions. Next week the subject is Miss Verbena's novels. Now which do you think is Miss Verbena's greatest novel?" He could only assume that she never saw a comic paper. "I--I'm afraid I haven't read any of them," he owned. "Oh! Oh, you surprise me. Oh, but you must: they're enormously clever. Ettie Verbena is quite my favourite novelist, excepting perhaps that _dear_ man who writes those immensely clever books that never offend in any way. So pure they are, such a true religious spirit in them! You know, Mr. Warrener, I'm a curious mixture. People tell me that I seem to enjoy myself just as much talking to a very clever man as when I'm romping through a barn-dance. And it's true you know; that is me. But I suppose you're more interested in stocks and shares, and things like that, than in books?" "Well, I--I shouldn't describe myself as widely-read," answered Conrad; "still books do interest me." "Oh well, then, you must come on one of my At-Home days next time," she said graciously; "one of the ladies you'll meet writes for 'Winsome Words,' and you'll meet several people you'll like." "I should be charmed," he said. The servant bustled in, and carried a bamboo table to the hearth. As she threw the teacloth over it, a cold wind blew through his hair. "Do your cousins live in London?" inquired Mrs. Barchester-Bailey, with the tail of a worried eye on the maid's blunders. "Yes," he said, "yes, they do. But I haven't seen them since I came back. I'm not sure whether they're in town." "Are they married?" "Yes," he said again. "Oh yes, they're married--both of them."