"That?
Oh, don't you know?
That's Sir Chichester Splay.

You must have heard of Sir Chichester! Why, it was in his house that the Whitworth girl, rather pretty but an awful fool, carried on with the spy-man." Joan was a little overstrung.

All the while she was powdering her nose in front of a mirror and removing as best she could the traces of tears, and all the while Mrs.Croyle was stammering words and words and words behind her.

Joan regretted that Stella was not going to the Willoughbys' ball.

If she had been, she would probably be carrying some rouge in her little hand-bag, and Joan might have borrowed some.
"Well, since you haven't got any with you, I must go," said Joan, bursting suddenly into Stella's monologue.