From the turtle to the pines and strawberries, Lady
Maulevrier held her host or her right-hand neighbour in interested
conversation. She always knew the particular subjects likely to interest
particular people, and was a good listener as well as a good talker. Her
right-hand neighbour was Sir Jasper Paulet, who had been allotted to the
pompous wife of a court physician, a lady who had begun her married life
in the outer darkness of Guildford Street, Bloomsbury, with a household
consisting of a maid-of-all-work and a boy in buttons, with an
occasional interregnum of charwoman; and for whom all the length and
breadth of Harley Street was now much too small.
Sir Jasper was only decently civil to this haughty matron, who on the
strength of a card for a ball or a concert at the palace once in a
season affected to be on the most intimate terms with Royalty, and knew
everything that happened, and every fluctuation of opinion in that
charmed circle. The great lawyer's left ear was listening greedily for
any word of meaning that might fall from the lips of Lady Maulevrier;
but no such word fell.
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