All
women are subject to moods, particularly, perhaps, those who have a
visitor staying with them for a considerable time. There are moments of
injustice, of unfairness to the most charming feminine guest, from the
most gentle hostess. And also there are, undoubtedly, times when the
nicest hostess gets a little on one's nerves.
So--critical, highly strung--Madame Frabelle was feeling today. So was
Edith. Madame Frabelle was privately thinking that Edith was restless,
that she had lost her repose, that her lips were redder than they used
to be. Had she taken to using lip salve too? She was inclined to smile,
with a twinkle in her eye, at Madame Frabelle's remarks, a shade too
often. And what was Edith thinking of at this moment? She was thinking
of Archie's remarks about Madame Frabelle. That boy had genius!
But there would be a reaction, probably during, or immediately after,
tea-time, for these two women were sincerely fond of one another. The
irritating fact that Edith was eighteen years younger than her guest
made Eglantine feel sometimes a desire to guide, even to direct her, and
if she had the disadvantage in age she wanted at least the privilege of
gratifying her longing to give advice.
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