Alpha Book

. . . Anyway,
what do _we_ care, dear? Unless you--"
"Rosamund!" said Mrs. Ruthven exasperated, "will you ever acquire the
elements of reticence? I don't know why people endure you; I don't,
indeed! And they won't much longer--"
"Yes, they will, dear; that's what society is for--a protective
association for the purpose of enduring impossible people. . . . I
wish," she added, "that it included husbands, because in some sets it's
getting to be one dreadful case of who's whose. Don't you think so?"
Alixe, externally calm but raging inwardly, sat pulling on her gloves,
heartily sorry she had lunched with Rosamund.
The latter, already gloved, had risen and was coolly surveying the room.
"_Tiens!_" she said, "there is the youthful brother of our red-haired
novice, now. He sees us and he's coming to inflict himself--with another
moon-faced creature. Shall we bolt?"
Alixe turned and stared at Gerald, who came up boyishly red and
impetuous:
"How d'ye do, Mrs. Ruthven; did you get my note? How d'ye do, Mrs.


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