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"Oh! excellently. People were so well advised as to be out, so I
paid off all my calls."
"You did not return your calls without Julius?"
"There's nothing he hates so much. I would not have dragged him
with me on any account."
"I think it is due to one's self."
"Ah! but then I don't care what is due to myself. I saw a friend of
yours, Cecil."
"Who?"
"Mrs. Duncombe," said Rosamond. "I went to Pettitt's--the little
perfumer, you know, that Julius did so much for at the fire; and
there she was, leaning on the counter, haranguing him confidentially
upon setting an example with sanatory measures."
"Sanitary," corrected Cecil; "sanitas is health, sano to cure.
People never know the difference."
"Certainly I don't," said Rosamond. "It must be microscopic!"
"Only it shows the difference between culture and the reverse," said
Cecil.
"Well, you know, I'm the reverse," said Rosamond, leaning sleepily
back, and becoming silent; but Cecil was too anxious for
intelligence to let her rest, and asked on what Mrs. Duncombe was
saying.


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