"Demonstrate."
"Yes, but what's that?"
"Put her hands over that girl and think about her."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Does she do it out of kindness?"
"Of course. But she's paid something, not because she wants to be paid,
but because it's the rule."
"Oh!"
An armchair was now wheeled forward, and Mrs. Harriet ensconced herself
in it comfortably.
"I'm very tired to-night," she remarked in her thick voice. "I've had a
hard afternoon."
"Poor darling!" cried Mrs. Bridgeman. "Fetch a glass of champagne for
Mrs. Harriet somebody. Oh, would you, Mr. Brummich?"
Mr. Brummich, a gentleman with a remarkably foolish, ascetic face and
a feebly-wandering sandy beard, was just about to hasten religiously
towards the Moorish nook when the great Towle happened, by accident, to
groan. Mrs. Bridgeman, started and smiled.
"Oh, and a glass of champagne for Mr. Towle, too, dear Mr. Brummich!"
"Certainly, Mrs. Bridgeman!" said dear Mr. Brummich, hurrying off with
the demeanour of the head of an Embassy entrusted with some important
mission to a foreign Court.
"Were you at work this afternoon, Harriet, beloved?" inquired Mrs.
Bridgeman of Mrs.
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