eople ever
get about. But I don't suppose they ever do."

"Well, I really don't know, but I suppose not. The Thornes don't, I
know," said Mrs. Proudie. "Very nice person, Miss Thorne, isn't she?"

"Oh, delightful, and so queer; I've known her these twenty years. A
great pet of mine is dear Miss Thorne. She is so very strange, you
know. She always makes me think of the Eskimos and the Indians. Isn't
her dress quite delightful?"

"Delightful," said Mrs. Proudie. "I wonder now whether she paints.
Did you ever see such colour?"

"Oh, of course," said Lady De Courcy; "that is, I have no doubt
she does. But, Mrs. Proudie, who is that woman on the sofa by the
window? Just step this way and you'll see her, there--" and the
countess led her to a spot where she could plainly see the signora's
well-remembered face and figure.

She did not however do so without being equally well seen by the
signora. "Look, look," said that lady to Mr. Slope, who was still
standing near to her; "see the high spiritualities and temporalities
of the land in league together, and all against poor me. I'll wager
my bracelet, Mr. Slope, against your next sermon that they've taken
up their position there on purpose to pull me to pieces. Well, I
can't rush to the combat, but I know how to protect myself if the
enemy come near me."

But the enemy knew better. They could gain nothing by contact with
the Signora Neroni, and they could abuse her as they pleased at a
distance from her on the lawn.

"She's that horrid Italian woman, Lady De Courcy; you must have heard
of her."

"What Italian woman?" said her ladyship, quite alive to the coming
story. "I don't think I've heard of any Italian woman coming into
the country. She doesn't look Italian, either."

"Oh, you must have heard of her," said Mrs. Proudie. "No, she's not
absolutely Italian. She is Dr. Stanhope's daughter--Dr. Stanhope the
prebendary--and she calls herself the Signora Neroni."

"Oh-h-h-h!" exclaimed the countess.

"I was sure you had heard of her," continued Mrs. Proudie. I don't
know anything about her husband. They do say that some man named
Neroni is still alive. I believe she did marry such a man abroad,
but I do not at all know who or what he was.

"Oh-h-h-h!" exclaimed the countess, shaking her head with much
intelligence, as every additional "h" fell from her lips. "I know
all about it now. I have heard George mention her. George knows all
about her. George heard about h