"_
"That is a good girl. But, come now, why say a word at all?"
"Oh, it is no use your demanding impossibilities, dear. I could no more
help speaking to her than I could fly; and don't go fancying she will
care a pin what I say, if I don't say it before _a gentleman."_
Having given him this piece of information, she left her ambush, and
proceeded to meet the all-unconscious blue girl; but, even as they went,
Vizard returned to his normal condition, and doled out, rather
indolently, that they were out on pleasure, and might possibly miss the
object of the excursion if they were to encourage a habit of getting into
rages about nothing.
Zoe was better than her word. She met Fanny with open admiration: to be
sure, she knew that apathy, or even tranquillity, on first meeting the
blues, would be instantly set down to envy.
"And where did you get it, dear?"
"At quite a small shop."
"French?"
"Oh, no; I think she was an Austrian. This is not a French mixture: loud,
discordant colors, that is the French taste."
"Here is heresy," said Vizard. "Why, I thought the French beat the world
in dress."
"Yes, dear," said Zoe, "in form and pattern.
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