...
Oh, Antoinette--Mrs. McLane--Mamma--how tiresome you are!"
Mrs. Abbott had not joined in this chorus. She had emitted a series
of grunts--no less primitive word expressing her vocal emissions when
disgusted. She now had four chins, her eyes were alarmingly
protuberant, and her face, what with the tight lacing in vogue, much
good food and wine, and a pious disapproval of powder or any care of
a complexion which should remain as God made it, was of a deep
mahogany tint; but her hand still held the iron rod, and if its veins
had risen its muscles had never grown flaccid.
"Abominable!" she ejaculated when she could make herself heard. "To
think that a man and a woman like that should be rewarded by fame and
prosperity. They were thoroughly bad and should have been punished
accordingly."
"Oh, no, they were not bad, ma chere," said Mrs. McLane lightly.
"They were much too good. That was the whole trouble. And you must
admit that for their temporary fall from grace they were sufficiently
punished, poor things."
"Antoinette, I am surprised." Mrs. Ballinger spoke as severely as
Mrs. Abbott. She looked less the Southerner for the moment than the
Puritan. "They disgraced both themselves and Society. I was glad to
hear of their reform, but they should have continued to live in
sackcloth for the rest of their lives.
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