She was very silent, but no doubt indicated
the possession of Cervantic humour by the sly calmness with which she
exhausted her own waiter, and pillaged her neighbours.
'Why not?' said a little French actress, highly finished like a
miniature, who scarcely ate anything, but drank champagne and chatted
with equal rapidity and composure, and who was always ready to fight
anybody's battle, provided she could get an opportunity to talk. 'Why
not, Mr. Annesley? You never will let anybody eat. I never eat myself,
because every night, having to talk so much, I am dry, dry, dry; so
I drink, drink, drink. It is an extraordinary thing that there is no
language which makes you so thirsty as French.'
'What can be the reason?' asked a sister of Mrs. Montfort, a tall fair
girl, who looked sentimental, but was only silly.
'Because there is so much salt in it,' said Lord Squib.
'Delia,' drawled Mr. Annesley, 'you look very pretty to-night!'
'I am charmed to charm you, Mr. Annesley. Shall I tell you what Lord Bon
Mot said of you?'
'No, _ma mignonne!_ I never wish to hear my own good things.'
'Spoiled, you should add,' said the fair rival of Lord Squib, 'if Bon
Mot be in the case.
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