"Of course," laughs Lady Jean, with unfeigned amusement; "but honesty and sterling worth are rather humdrum things, don't you think? And she is _so_ vulgar!" "That should be a recommendation, I fancy," says Lauraine. "Almost every one is vulgar nowadays." "Ah, but there is a distinction! When a woman is really well born, and has an established position, she may do what she likes. It is these mushroom millionaires, these _nouveaux riches_, with their lined pockets and their 'piles,' made out of every imaginable horror, adulterating, swindling, coal-mining, shoe-blacking, heaven only knows what, that are so odious and yet so formidable a power! They push, they struggle, they scheme, they spend their money like water, they have a craze for society, the very highest, the very best. They take our snubs and insults, and flatter and fawn just the same only for a card in their halls, a half-hour passage through their drawing-rooms, the honour and glory of a 'name' to figure in a society journal as one of their guests. Faugh! it is sickening!" "But the society who eats and drinks and amuses itself at their expense is alone to blame," says Lauraine calmly. "If people had sufficient dignity and self-respect to oppose such innovations, to keep these people at a distance, they could not force themselves in." "But they are always so abominably rich," laughs Lady Jean. "That excuses so much, you see; and then they let us treat them pretty much as we please. It is a case of get all you want, give what you like." "To me that always seems a very mean doctrine," says Lauraine gravely. "Do you treat Mrs. Bradshaw Woollffe as an equal, then?" asks Lady Jean ironically. "If you mean do I know her one day and cut her the next, do I go to her balls and be blind when we pass in the Row, I must say--no. She comes to my house, I go to hers. She was extremely kind to me in Rome, and I never forget kindness. She is not very ladylike, I acknowledge, but I should be sorry to hurt her feelings because of that. I do not consider a lady can ever affect her own dignity by her behaviour to those whom society counts her inferiors. For my part I like to be consistent. If we receive such people on account of their wealth, we take them at their own valuation. We have no right to smile on them one minute and insult them the next." "You were always peculiar," says Lady Jean, with some asperity. "I suppose that comes of high principles and poetic fancies. I always go where I can be amused myself. It is the best thing to do after all." "To amuse oneself?" questions Lauraine. "And afterwards?"