'I should not like that. But then, you have the toe-beganing--that must
be nice.
I assented, though I did not in the least know, until Miss Fortescue
spoke of skating, what she meant. Miss Fortescue thought the skating
must be nice, too, and then, she supposed, though it was cold, we
always went out prepared for it. And the conversation flagged again.
Fortunately, a gentleman at the other end of the room, where the piano
was, began at that moment to sing something very pleading and lamentable
and uncomfortable, with a burden of 'I love thee so,' which generally
rhymed with 'woe'--an address to somebody he called 'Dear-r-r
Hear-r-r-t!' as high as he could reach, turning up his eyes a good deal,
as if he were in pain. And for the time it was not necessary to talk.
When he had finished Miss Fortescue asked me if it was not delightful,
and I said it was--did she know the gentleman's name? Miss Fortescue
said she did not, but perhaps Lady Torquilin would. And then, just as
Lady Torquilin came up, 'How do you like England?' asked Miss Fortescue.
'Well,' asked Lady Torquilin, as we drove home in another hansom, what
did you and Gladys Fortescue find to say to each other?'
I said, quite truly, that I did not remember at the moment, but I
admired Miss Fortescue--also with great sincerity--so enthusiastically,
that I daresay Lady Torquilin thought we had got on splendidly together.
And what I wonder is, if Miss Fortescue had been asked about our
conversation, what she would have said.