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"My dear, Eliza Peyton—Madame Koller I should say—is what you young sprigs call green—excessively green. She imagines because I am old I am a fool. And that precious scamp, Ahlberg—"
"Why do you call him a scamp, papa?"
"Why do I call Petrarch an African?"
"Mrs. Peyton seems to have some kind of a prejudice to Mr. Ahlberg, too."
"Aha, trust Sally Peyton to see for herself. She's devilish tricky, is Sally Peyton—not that I have any cause to complain of it—none whatever. She's very sharp. But we'll go and call some day on Eli—Madame Koller. She's not bad company for the country—and I've heard she could sing, too."
"Yes, we will go," answered Olivia, suppressing a yawn. "It's in the country, as you say."
