Dolly Dialogues [29]
"Charming House Opposite!" If only I might dwell forever in the House Opposite!"
"I haven't the least notion of what you mean," remarked Mrs. Hilary, stiffly. "I suppose it's something silly--or worse."
I looked at her in some puzzle.
"Have you no longing for the House Opposite?" I asked.
Mrs. Hilary looked at me. Her eyes ceased to be absolutely blank. She put her arm through Hilary's and answered gently--
"I don't want the House Opposite."
"Ah," said I, giving my hat a brush, "but maybe you remember the House--when it was Opposite?"
Mrs. Hilary, one arm still in Hilary's, gave me her hand. She blushed and smiled.
"Well," said she, "it was your fault; so I won't scold Phyllis."
"No, don't my dear," said Hilary, with a laugh.
As for me, I went downstairs, and, in absence of mind, bade my cabman drive to the House Opposite. But I have never got there.
A QUICK CHANGE
"Why not go with Archie?" I asked, spreading out my hands.
"It will be dull enough, anyhow," said Dolly, fretfully. "Besides, it's awfully bourgeois to go to the theater with one's husband."
"Bourgeois," I observed, "is an epithet which the riffraff apply to what is respectable, and the aristocracy to what is decent."
"But it's not a nice thing to be, all the same," said Dolly, who is impervious to the most penetrating remark.
"You're in no danger of it," I hastened to assure her.
"How should you describe me, then?" she asked, leaning forward, with a smile.
"I should describe you, Lady Mickleham," I replied discreetly, "as being a little lower than the angels."
Dolly's smile was almost a laugh as she asked:
"How much lower, please, Mr. Carter?"
"Just by the depth of your dimples," said I thoughtlessly.
Dolly became immensely grave.
"I thought," said she, "that we never mentioned them now, Mr. Carter."
"Did we ever?" I asked innocently.
"I seemed to remember once: do you recollect being in very low spirits one evening at Monte?"
"I remember being in very low water more than one evening there."
"Yes; you told me you were terribly hard-up."
"There was an election in our division that year," I remarked, "and I remitted 30 percent of my rents."
"You did--to M. Blanc," said Dolly. "Oh, and you were very dreary! You said you'd wasted your life and your time and your opportunities."
"Oh, you mustn't suppose I never have any proper feelings," said I complacently.
"I think you were hardly yourself."
"Do be more charitable."
"And you said that your only chance was in gaining the affection of--"
"Surely, I was not such an--so foolish?" I implored.
"Yes, you were. You were sitting close by me--"
"Oh, then, it doesn't count," said I, rallying a little.
"On a bench. You remember the bench?"
"No, I don't," said I, with a kind but firm smile.
"Not the bench?"
"No."
Dolly looked at me, then she asked in an insinuating tone--
"When did you forget it, Mr. Carter?"
"The day you were buried," I rejoined.
"I see. Well, you said then what you couldn't possibly have meant."
"I dare say. I often did."
"That they were--"
"That what were?"
"Why, the--the--what we're talking about."
"What we were--? Oh, to be sure, the--the blemishes?"
"Yes, the blemishes. You said they were the most--"
"Oh, well, it was a facon de parler."
"I was afraid you weren't a bit sincere," said Dolly humbly.
"Well, judge by yourself," said I with a candid air.
"But I said nothing!" cried Dolly.
"It was incomparably the most artistic thing to do," said I.
"I'm sometimes afraid you don't do me justice, Mr. Carter," remarked Dolly with some pathos.
I did not care to enter upon that discussion, and a pause followed. Then Dolly, in a timid manner, asked me--
"Do you remember the dreadful thing that happened the same evening?"
"That chances to remain in my memory," I admitted.
"I've always thought it kind of you never to speak of it," said she.
"It is best forgotten," said I, smiling.
"We should have said the same
"I haven't the least notion of what you mean," remarked Mrs. Hilary, stiffly. "I suppose it's something silly--or worse."
I looked at her in some puzzle.
"Have you no longing for the House Opposite?" I asked.
Mrs. Hilary looked at me. Her eyes ceased to be absolutely blank. She put her arm through Hilary's and answered gently--
"I don't want the House Opposite."
"Ah," said I, giving my hat a brush, "but maybe you remember the House--when it was Opposite?"
Mrs. Hilary, one arm still in Hilary's, gave me her hand. She blushed and smiled.
"Well," said she, "it was your fault; so I won't scold Phyllis."
"No, don't my dear," said Hilary, with a laugh.
As for me, I went downstairs, and, in absence of mind, bade my cabman drive to the House Opposite. But I have never got there.
A QUICK CHANGE
"Why not go with Archie?" I asked, spreading out my hands.
"It will be dull enough, anyhow," said Dolly, fretfully. "Besides, it's awfully bourgeois to go to the theater with one's husband."
"Bourgeois," I observed, "is an epithet which the riffraff apply to what is respectable, and the aristocracy to what is decent."
"But it's not a nice thing to be, all the same," said Dolly, who is impervious to the most penetrating remark.
"You're in no danger of it," I hastened to assure her.
"How should you describe me, then?" she asked, leaning forward, with a smile.
"I should describe you, Lady Mickleham," I replied discreetly, "as being a little lower than the angels."
Dolly's smile was almost a laugh as she asked:
"How much lower, please, Mr. Carter?"
"Just by the depth of your dimples," said I thoughtlessly.
Dolly became immensely grave.
"I thought," said she, "that we never mentioned them now, Mr. Carter."
"Did we ever?" I asked innocently.
"I seemed to remember once: do you recollect being in very low spirits one evening at Monte?"
"I remember being in very low water more than one evening there."
"Yes; you told me you were terribly hard-up."
"There was an election in our division that year," I remarked, "and I remitted 30 percent of my rents."
"You did--to M. Blanc," said Dolly. "Oh, and you were very dreary! You said you'd wasted your life and your time and your opportunities."
"Oh, you mustn't suppose I never have any proper feelings," said I complacently.
"I think you were hardly yourself."
"Do be more charitable."
"And you said that your only chance was in gaining the affection of--"
"Surely, I was not such an--so foolish?" I implored.
"Yes, you were. You were sitting close by me--"
"Oh, then, it doesn't count," said I, rallying a little.
"On a bench. You remember the bench?"
"No, I don't," said I, with a kind but firm smile.
"Not the bench?"
"No."
Dolly looked at me, then she asked in an insinuating tone--
"When did you forget it, Mr. Carter?"
"The day you were buried," I rejoined.
"I see. Well, you said then what you couldn't possibly have meant."
"I dare say. I often did."
"That they were--"
"That what were?"
"Why, the--the--what we're talking about."
"What we were--? Oh, to be sure, the--the blemishes?"
"Yes, the blemishes. You said they were the most--"
"Oh, well, it was a facon de parler."
"I was afraid you weren't a bit sincere," said Dolly humbly.
"Well, judge by yourself," said I with a candid air.
"But I said nothing!" cried Dolly.
"It was incomparably the most artistic thing to do," said I.
"I'm sometimes afraid you don't do me justice, Mr. Carter," remarked Dolly with some pathos.
I did not care to enter upon that discussion, and a pause followed. Then Dolly, in a timid manner, asked me--
"Do you remember the dreadful thing that happened the same evening?"
"That chances to remain in my memory," I admitted.
"I've always thought it kind of you never to speak of it," said she.
"It is best forgotten," said I, smiling.
"We should have said the same