People of her sort are so anxious to
ingratiate themselves with "all the Best People" that if they find
you are wholly unconcerned about the privilege of conversation with
a "titled person," they instantly judge you to be a distinguished
character. As the days rolled on, Lady Meadowcroft's voice began to melt
by degrees. Once, she asked me, quite civilly, to send round the ice;
she even saluted me on the third day out with a polite "Good-morning,
doctor."
Still, I maintained (by Hilda's advice) my dignified reserve, and took
my seat severely with a cold "Good-morning." I behaved like a high-class
consultant, who expects to be made Physician in Ordinary to Her Majesty.
At lunch that day, Hilda played her first card with delicious
unconsciousness--apparent unconsciousness; for, when she chose, she was
a consummate actress. She played it at a moment when Lady Meadowcroft,
who by this time was burning with curiosity on our account, had paused
from her talk with her husband to listen to us. I happened to say
something about some Oriental curios belonging to an aunt of mine in
London. Hilda seized the opportunity. "What did you say was her name?"
she asked, blandly.
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