"This is entirely aunt's Friday night gathering, and
they are all her friends. That is Lady Maltenby opposite you, and
her husband on the other side of my aunt."
"Maltenby," he repeated. "Ah, yes! There is one son a Brigadier,
is there not? And another one sees sometimes about town--a Mr.
Julian Orden."
"He is the youngest son."
"Am I exceeding the privileges of friendship, Countess," the Baron
continued, "if I enquire whether there was not a rumour of an
engagement between yourself and Mr. Orden, a few days ago?"
"It is in the air," she admitted, "but at present nothing is
settled. Mr. Orden has peculiar habits. He disappeared from
Society altogether, a few days ago, and has only just returned."
"A censor, was he not?"
"Something of the sort," Catherine assented. "He went out to
France, though, and did extremely well. He lost his foot there."
"I have noticed that he uses a stick," the Baron remarked. "I
always find him a young man of pleasant and distinguished
appearance."
"Well," Catherine continued, "that is Mr. Braithwaiter the
playwright, a little to the left--the man, with the smooth grey
hair and eyeglass. Mrs. Hamilton Beardsmore you know, of course;
her husband is commanding his regiment in Egypt."
"The lady on my left?"
"Lady Grayson. She comes up from the country once a month to buy
food. You needn't mind her. She is stone deaf and prefers dining
to talking."
"I am relieved," the Baron confessed, with a little sigh.
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