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“Do you mean to say that you are the only person who doesn’t
think her funny?” I asked, smiling.
“Had it struck you that she was a humorist?”
“I’m bound to say it hadn’t.”
“She says just the same things as she’s said for the last thirty-
five years. I laugh when I see everyone else does because I don’t
want to seem a perfect fool, but I am not amused.”
“Like Queen Victoria,” I said.
It was a foolish jest and Mrs. Tower was quite right: sharply to
tell me so. I tried another tack.
“Is Gilbert here?” I asked, looking down the table.
“Gilbert was asked because she won’t go out without him, but
to-night he’s at a dinner of the Architects’ Institute or whatever it’s
called.”
“I’m dying to renew my acquaintance with her.”
“Go and talk to her after dinner. She’ll ask you to her
Tuesdays.”
“Her Tuesdays?”
“She’s at home every Tuesday evening. You’ll meet there
everyone you ever heard of. They’re the best parties in London. She’s
done in one year what I’ve failed to do in twenty.”
“But what you tell me is really miraculous. How has it been
done?”
Mrs. Tower shrugged her handsome but adipose shoulders.
“I shall be glad if you’ll tell me,” she replied.
After dinner I tried to make my way to the sofa on which Jane
was sitting, but I was intercepted and it was not till a little later that
my hostess came up to me and said:
“I must introduce you to the star of my party. Do you know
Jane Napier? She’s priceless. She’s much more amusing than your
comedies.”
I was taken up to the sofa. The admiral who had been sitting
beside her at dinner was with her still. He showed no sign of moving,
and Jane, shaking hands with me, introduced me to him.
“Do you know Sir Reginald Frobisher?”
We began to chat. It was the same Jane as I had known before,
perfectly simple, homely and unaffected but her fantastic appearance
certainly gave a peculiar savour to what she said. Suddenly I found
myself shaking with laughter. She had made a remark, sensible and to