Lady Alston shifted her position slightly, as if something had suddenly made her uncomfortable. "It is no use talking about wickedness nowadays," she said, "because people simply stare, as if they did not know what you meant. But I made Blanche stare in a different kind of manner the other day, when I asked her if she really had no idea how vulgar she was." "Surely she did not mind being called vulgar?" "She did when I explained carefully what I meant by vulgarity. Of course a certain sort of vulgarity is _chic_ now. It is very vulgar not to be vulgar, not to talk at the top of one's voice, and eat too much, and laugh very loud at things which ought not to be said; but when I told her what sort of a picture she makes when she sits simpering and ogling Dick all across the room, and, so to speak, spreading herself on the floor for him to walk over, she did not think I was so pleasant. But that's exactly what she does." Mrs. Brereton drew on her gloves. "There is something very successful in your attitude, Marie," she said. "You go about hurling home-truths at people; you hold up looking-glasses to them, and make them see themselves; you point out what brutes they are, and scold them for it; but they never bear you any ill-will, and always want to see you. You really must not go into the country: we cannot get on without you!" "Ah, if I only was conceited enough to think that, I should go!" "That is truly amiable. But what I mean is this: you have got somehow the quality of centrality; our parties--I'm sure I don't know why--are brilliant if you are there, and sensibly flatter if you are not. I suppose it is because people are always talking about you, and it is so nice in one's own house to be able to point to the original. At the same time, I always feel about you as if you were the volcano on which we were all dancing." "I shan't explode: I am the least likely person in the world to explode," said Marie. "Ah, you never can tell about volcanoes. That is the joy of them. I snatch a fearful joy from you, dear. I wish I was a volcano. How do you manage it? Do you get very angry inside, and determine not to say anything till the pressure is irresistible? By the way, Jim Spencer has just come back. You know him, I suppose? Anyhow, you will meet him at dinner this evening." Marie looked up with a sudden vivacity. "Jim Spencer? Why, of course I do. We were brought up together almost. Then--well, then I married, and I lost sight of him somehow." "One does," observed Mrs. Brereton. "Marriage often produces a sort of moral cataract." "Don't be foolish, Mildred. There is nothing cheaper or easier or falser than that sort of innuendo. Besides, he went abroad; he has been away two years, I should think." "They do go abroad," said Mrs. Brereton. "Oh, if you want to know, there is no earthly reason why I should not tell you. He proposed to me. But I always liked him very much." "I always said so," remarked Mrs. Brereton.