Emily Arundell said “Bob!” sharply and passed on.
In the greengrocer’s there was a meeting of heavenly bodies. Another old lady, spherical in outline, but equally distinguished by that air of royalty, said:
“Mornin’, Emily.”
“Good morning, Caroline.”
Caroline Peabody said:
“Expecting any of your young people down?”
“Yes, all of them. Theresa, Charles and Bella.”
“So Bella’s home, is she? Husband too?”
“Yes.”
It was a simple monosyllable, but underlying it was knowledge common to both ladies.
For Bella Biggs, Emily Arundell’s niece, had married a Greek. And Emily Arundell’s people, who were what is known as “all service people,” simply did not marry Greeks.
By way of being obscurely comforting (for of course such a matter could not be referred to openly) Miss Peabody said:
“Bella’s husband’s got brains. And charming manners!”
“His manners are delightful,” agreed Miss Arundell.
Moving out into the street Miss Peabody asked:
“What’s this about Theresa being engaged to young Donaldson?”
Miss Arundell shrugged her shoulders.
“Young people are so casual nowadays. I’m afraid it will have to be a rather long engagement—that is, if anything comes of it. He has no money.”
“Of course Theresa has her own money,” said Miss Peabody.
Miss Arundell said stiffly:
“A man could not possibly wish to live on his wife’s money.”
Miss Peabody gave a rich, throaty chuckle.
“They don’t seem to mind doing it, nowadays. You and I are out of date, Emily. What I can’t understand is what the child sees in him. Of all the namby-pamby young men!”
“He’s a clever doctor, I believe.”
“Those pince-nez—and that stiff way of talking! In my young days we’d have called him a poor stick!”
There was a pause while Miss Peabody’s memory, diving into the past, conjured up visions of dashing, bewhiskered young men….
She said with a sigh:
“Send that young dog Charles along to see me—if he’ll come.”
“Of course. I’ll tell him.”
The two ladies parted.