3692. The ladies were seated at a round table in the middle of that room when a footman entered bearing a silver tray on which was a note in a little envelope sealed with a wax stamp. Harriett opened the note absentmindedly with one hand while taking a look at the winning hand of whist she had just been dealt. Setting her cards face down on the table, she read the note through, pushed a hand across her brow, and resumed playing cards.
3693. One of Harriett’s friends of long standing was Natalie. Natalie was a chatterbox. She was known to run on endlessly about every subject from things like the most up to date drape colors and fabrics to the latest rising of the peasants in some remote province. She did not separate her sentences or her ideas into compartments, and might start out talking about a new style of shoe, and end by talking about the shortage of salt.
3694. Natalie interrupted a discussion about the price of butter to ask Harriett what was bothering her. “Harriett,” she said, “You look like one of your poodles just died dear, what is bothering you.”