Ugh!" and the poor lady shuddered.
Mrs.Belgrove saw that her companion was meandering, and would never come to the point unless forced to face it, so she rapped her knuckles with the lorgnette.

"What about Clara Greeby ?" she demanded sharply.
"She's a cat!" "Oh, we're all cats, mewing or spitting as the fit takes us," said Mrs.
Belgrove comfortably.

"I can't see why cat should be a term of opprobrium when applied to a woman.

Cats are charmingly pretty animals, and know what they want, also how to get it.

Well, my dear ?" "I believe she was in love with Noel herself," ruminated Lady Garvington.
"Who was in love?
Come to the point, my dear Jane." "Clara Greeby." Mrs.Belgrove laughed.