hostess firmly with an angry eye. "Because women could have the world at their feet—if they'd only keep their feet still long enough."
It was the turn of the duchess to start, and start she did. As one who could not believe her ears, she stared at Mrs. Bruce. The "wittiest hostess in San Marco" was militantly under way.
"Women are not what they used to be," she continued. "Either they are mad about clothes, or they go to the other extreme and harbor strange ideas about the vote, eugenics, what not. In fact, the sex reminds me of the type of shop that abounds in a small town—its specialty is dry-goods and notions."
The duchess pushed away a plate which had only that moment been set before her. She regarded Mrs. Bruce with the eye of Mrs. Pankhurst face to face with a prime minister.
"We are hardly kind to our sex," she said, "but I must say I agree with you. And the extravagance of women! Half the women of my acquaintance wear gorgeous rings on their fingers—while their husbands wear blue rings about their eyes."
