"You're probably scared to death.

This is my son, Delancy, who is going to take you in, and I'm wondering about you, because Delancy doesn't get on with debutantes, but that can't be helped.

If he's pig enough not to talk to you, it wouldn't surprise me--and it's just as well, too, for if he likes anybody he compromises them, but it's no use your ever liking a Grandcourt, for all the men make rotten husbands--I'm glad Rosalie Dysart threw him over for poor Jack Dysart; it saved her a divorce! I'd get one if I could; so would Magnelius.

My husband was a judge once, but he resigned because he couldn't send people up for the things he was doing himself." Mrs.Grandcourt, still gabbling away, turned to greet new arrivals, merely switching to another subject without interrupting her steady stream of outrageous talk.

She was celebrated for it--and for nothing else.
Geraldine, bewildered and a little horrified, looked at her billowy, bediamonded hostess, then at young Delancy Grandcourt, who, not perceptibly abashed by his mother's left-handed compliments, lounged beside her, apparently on the verge of a yawn.
"My mother says things," he explained patiently; "nobody minds 'em....
Shall we exchange nonsense--or would you rather save yourself until dinner ?" "Save myself what ?" she asked nervously.
"The nuisance of talking to me about nothing.