Читать книгу The storm of London: a social rhapsody онлайн

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“What are you, Danford, if not an Englishman?” Lionel smiled.

“Ah! satirists have neither sex nor nationality; but pray go on with your alembic of Colonel Archibald’s character.”

“Well, he chose his wife because she was a well-bred girl—or at least had her certificate of good breeding—also because she was well connected and thoroughly trained in all social cunning.”

“Yes, and I daresay the thin, well-trained piece of machinery had been stirred by the dashing young officer. She secretly harboured love in that secret corner of the heart and senses which thorough-bred folks ignore outwardly but slyly analyse. We must not forget, my lord, that she has short wrists and thick ankles—ha! ha!—he was of her set, so nature could be let loose, while creeping passion was allowed to fill her whole being.”

“True, my dear Mephisto, but generations of women before her have done the same, and she did not disgrace the long lineage of mediocrity and avidity. She had been told what all women are told in our world—namely, that a lady never spoke loudly, never thought broadly; therefore she ruined her friends’ reputations under a whisper, and put the Spanish Inquisition to shame by her pietistical hypocrisy.”