Tristram's account of the
matter you would have supposed that they had been cynically repudiated
for the sake of grander acquaintance. "We were all very well so long
as we had no rivals--we were better than nothing. But now that you have
become the fashion, and have your pick every day of three invitations to
dinner, we are tossed into the corner. I am sure it is very good of you
to come and see us once a month; I wonder you don't send us your cards
in an envelope. When you do, pray have them with black edges; it will be
for the death of my last illusion." It was in this incisive strain that
Mrs. Tristram moralized over Newman's so-called neglect, which was in
reality a most exemplary constancy. Of course she was joking, but
there was always something ironical in her jokes, as there was always
something jocular in her gravity.
"I know no better proof that I have treated you very well," Newman
had said, "than the fact that you make so free with my character.
Familiarity breeds contempt; I have made myself too cheap. If I had a
little proper pride I would stay away a while, and when you asked me to
dinner say I was going to the Princess Borealska's. But I have not any
pride where my pleasure is concerned, and to keep you in the humor to
see me--if you must see me only to call me bad names--I will agree to
anything you choose; I will admit that I am the biggest snob in Paris.
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