Mrs. Ard. (slightly crushed, in spite of a conviction that—­socially speaking—­Balham has been rather more brilliant than usual this year.) Yes, that’s very true.  I suppose the Elections have put a stop to most things?

Mrs. All. There never was much going on. I should rather have said it was Marlborough House being shut up that made everything so dull from the first.

Mrs. Ard. Ah, that does make such a difference, doesn’t it? (She feels she must make an effort to recover lost ground.) I fully expected to be at Homburg this year.

Mrs. All. Then you would have met Lady NEURALINE MENTHOL She was ordered there, I happen to know.

Mrs. Ard. Really, you don’t say so?  Lady NEURALINE!  Well, that’s the first I’ve heard of it. (It is also the first time she has heard of HER, but she trusts to be spared so humiliating an admission.)

Mrs. All. It’s a fact, I can assure you.  You know her, perhaps?

Mrs. Ard. (who would dearly like to say she does, if she only dared).  Well, I can hardly say I exactly know her.  I know of her.  I’ve met her about, and so on. (She tells herself this is quite as likely to be true as not.)

Mrs. All. (who, of course, does not know Lady NEURALINE either).  Ah, she is a most delightful person—­requires knowing, don’t you know.

Mrs. Ard. So many in her position do, don’t they? (So far as she is concerned—­they ALL do.) You’d think it was haughtiness—­but it’s really only manner.

Mrs. All. (feeling that she can go ahead with safety now).  I have never found anything of that sort in Lady NEURALINE myself (which is perfectly true).  She’s rather odd and flighty, but quite a dear.  By the way, how sad it is about those poor dear CHUTNEYS—­the Countess, don’t you know!

Mrs. Ard. Ah (as if she knew all the rest of the family), I don’t know her at all.

Mrs. All. Such a sweet woman—­but the trouble she’s had with her eldest boy, Lord MANGO!  He married quite beneath him, you know, some girl from the provinces—­not a county-family girl even.

Mrs. Ard. (shocked).  Dear, dear! not a county family!

Mrs. All. No; somebody quite common—­I forget the name, but it was either GHERKIN or ONION, or something of that sort.  I was told they had been in Chili a good while.  Poor MANGO never had much taste, or he would never have got mixed up with such a set.  Anyway, he’s got himself into a terrible pickle.  I hear Capsicums is actually to be sold to pay his debts.

Mrs. Ard. You don’t say so!  Capsicums!  Gracious!