“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Mayston Ryle. “She was extremely self-possessed; I don’t think it looks well for a young woman to have so much assurance. And I think she ought to be told that it’s hardly well bred for a young married woman to leave a house before anybody else as if she were royalty, when there are present women of a certain age and of a position undoubtedly not inferior to her own.” “Oh, they’re so newly married they like to be alone, poor things,” said Lady Waggett. “I know I used to when I was first married to Sir Samuel.” “My dear Lady Waggett,” answered Mrs. Mayston Ryle in tones of thunder, “the cases are not similar; Mrs. Craddock was a Miss Ley, and really should know something of the usages of good society.” “Well, what do you think she said to me?” said Mrs. Branderton, waving her thin arms. “I was telling her that we were all so pleased with her husband--I thought it would comfort her a little, poor thing--and she said she hoped he would be equally satisfied with us.” Mrs. Mayston Ryle for a moment was stupefied, but soon recovered. “How very amusing,” she cried, rising from her chair. “Ha! ha! She hopes Mr. Edward Craddock will be satisfied with Mrs. Mayston Ryle.” The two Miss Hancocks said “Ha! ha!” in chorus. Then, the great lady’s carriage being announced, she bade the assembly good-night, and swept out with a great rustling of her violet silk. The party might now really be looked upon as concluded, and the others obediently flocked off. * * * * * When they had put the Glovers down, Bertha nestled close to her husband. “I’m so glad it’s all over,” she whispered; “I’m only happy when I’m alone with you.” “It was a jolly evening, wasn’t it,” he said. “I thought they were all ripping.” “I’m so glad you enjoyed it, dear; I was afraid you’d be bored.” “Good heavens, that’s the last thing I should be. It does one good to hear conversation like that now and then--it brightens one up.” Bertha started a little. “Old Bacot is a very well informed man, isn’t he? I shouldn’t wonder if he was right in thinking that the government would go out at the end of their six years.” “He always leads one to believe that he’s in the Prime Minister’s confidence,” said Bertha. “And the General is a funny old chap,” added Edward. “That was a good story he told about the Duke of Wellington.” Somehow this remark had a curious effect upon Bertha; she could not restrain herself, but burst suddenly into shrieks of hysterical laughter. Her husband, thinking she was laughing at the anecdote, burst also into peal upon peal. “And the story about the Bishop’s gaiters!” cried Edward, shouting with merriment. The more he laughed, the more hysterical became Bertha; and as they drove through the silent night they screamed and yelled and shook with uncontrollable mirth. Chapter X