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.—Why, Jeannette, I thought you were still abroad!

.—I was until I sailed a fortnight ago.

.—What brought you home?

.—I really don't know.

.—There's absolutely nothing in New York.

.—There was nothing in London or Paris, and we spent last winter in the Riviera.

.—What is one to do?

.—I really don't know.

.—There are no new fashions in dinners or gowns.

.—I've been presented, and I've owned a Japanese spaniel at least a month.

.—And I had a white and gold room last season.

.—I brought home an Indian Ayah for the children.

.—Do you. find her interesting?

.—Rather picturesque, you know! The children are afraid of her.

.—Are they, indeed?

.—Yes; I have a French bonne besides.

.—I had a Chinese page at Newport this summer.

.—Yes; did you bring him to New York?

.—Oh, no, indeed! why, I had him two months!

.—So long as that?

.—Yes; I suppose the children are well?

.—Oh, yes; I believe so, I saw them at dessert last night.

.—You know Fido died last summer?

.—How sad!

.—Yes; I had three doctors.

.—What was the trouble?

.—Some heart affection, I think. The doctors suggested he might have eaten something that disagreed with him.

.—Physicians are so unsympathetic. Why, Babette had an attaque de nerfs the other day, and Dr. Blunt called it fits.

.—So distressing!

.—Yes; I shall never employ him again.

.—We buried Fido on the ocean lawn.

.—My poor Arabella!

.—Yes; I sent lovely mourning cards to all his little dog friends.

.—How sweet!

.—They were very unique. We draped his basket in white; black seemed so sombre for the dear little fellow.

.—Of course!

.—And I had a fac-simile of his head cut in onyx for a seal, and used it in lavender wax on all my letters for a fortnight. Poor little Fido!

.—Oh, that was really touching!

.—It was all very interesting.

.—Oh, it must have been! If Babette should die I should use pale-blue wax; her skin is so pink the combination would be quite Frenchy!

.—Yes, indeed!

.—I think I must go now. Where do you show tonight?

.—I really don't know. My maid keeps my tablets to lay out the gowns.

.—Well, I shall be there, I presume.

.—Yes; it would be a boon not to be asked somewhere.

.—I'm positively desperate for a new emotion.

.—I think seriously of putting a marble-top table in my boudoir.

.—That would be startling. What can I do?

.—You might use gilt-edged visiting cards.

.—I believe I will. Fancy being actually harrowed!

.—I have not asked after Mr. Blasé.

.—He is en voyage; the steamer must be due now.

.—He did not come with you, then?

.—Oh, dear, no. We should have bored one another to death!

.—I know. I met Mr. Ennui out one night last week, and he proposed a trip to California by special car.

.—It would have been horribly tiresome.

.—Yes, indeed! I said: "Why, Harold, I should have to see you every day for a whole week!"

.—Oh, it is all so very fatiguing!