"Oh! w-what shall I do ?" "Leave him!" Mrs.Buzza clasped her hands and stared.
"You could see the m-marks quite plain," she wailed.
"What! Did he strike you ?" "I mean, on the bo-bottom of the c-cups.

They were real W-worcester." "Leave him! Oh! I have no patience," and Mrs.Goodwyn-Sandys stamped her little foot, "with you women of Troy.

Will you always be dolls-- dolls with a painted smile for all man's insane caprices?
Will you never-- ?" "I don't paint," put in Mrs.Buzza feebly.
"Revolt, I say! Leave him this very night! Oh! if I could--" "If you please 'm," interrupted the page, throwing open the door, "here's Mrs.Simpson, an' says she must see you partic'lar." Mrs.Buzza had barely time to dry her eyes and set her bonnet straight, before Mrs.Simpson rushed into the room.

The new comer's face was crimson, and her eyes sparkled.
"Oh! Mrs.Goodwyn-Sandys, I must--" At this point she became aware of Mrs.Buzza, stopped abruptly, sank into a chair, and began aimlessly to discuss the weather.
This was awkward; but the situation became still further strained when Mrs.Pellow was announced, and bursting in with the same eagerness, came to a dead halt with the same inconsequence.
Mrs.Saunders followed with white face and set teeth, and Mrs.
Ellicome-Payne in haste and tears.
"Pray come in," said their hostess blandly; "this is quite like a mothers' meeting." The reader has no doubt guessed aright.

Though nobody present ever afterwards breathed a word as to their reasons for calling thus at "The Bower," and though the weather (which was serene and settled) alone supplied conversation during their visit, the truth is that the domestic relations of all these ladies had coincidently reached a climax.