“I do not suppose the situation my friend Mrs Rooke is in at present, will furnish much either to interest or edify me.  She is only nursing Mrs Wallis of Marlborough Buildings; a mere pretty, silly, expensive, fashionable woman, I believe; and of course will have nothing to report but of lace and finery.  I mean to make my profit of Mrs Wallis, however.  She has plenty of money, and I intend she shall buy all the high-priced things I have in hand now.”

Anne had called several times on her friend, before the existence of such a person was known in Camden Place.  At last, it became necessary to speak of her.  Sir Walter, Elizabeth and Mrs Clay, returned one morning from Laura Place, with a sudden invitation from Lady Dalrymple for the same evening, and Anne was already engaged, to spend that evening in Westgate Buildings.  She was not sorry for the excuse.  They were only asked, she was sure, because Lady Dalrymple being kept at home by a bad cold, was glad to make use of the relationship which had been so pressed on her; and she declined on her own account with great alacrity—­“She was engaged to spend the evening with an old schoolfellow.”  They were not much interested in anything relative to Anne; but still there were questions enough asked, to make it understood what this old schoolfellow was; and Elizabeth was disdainful, and Sir Walter severe.

“Westgate Buildings!” said he, “and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be visiting in Westgate Buildings?  A Mrs Smith.  A widow Mrs Smith; and who was her husband?  One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to be met with everywhere.  And what is her attraction?  That she is old and sickly.  Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary taste!  Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting to you.  But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow:  she is not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another day.  What is her age?  Forty?”

“No, sir, she is not one-and-thirty; but I do not think I can put off my engagement, because it is the only evening for some time which will at once suit her and myself.  She goes into the warm bath to-morrow, and for the rest of the week, you know, we are engaged.”

“But what does Lady Russell think of this acquaintance?” asked Elizabeth.

“She sees nothing to blame in it,” replied Anne; “on the contrary, she approves it, and has generally taken me when I have called on Mrs Smith.”

“Westgate Buildings must have been rather surprised by the appearance of a carriage drawn up near its pavement,” observed Sir Walter.  “Sir Henry Russell’s widow, indeed, has no honours to distinguish her arms, but still it is a handsome equipage, and no doubt is well known to convey a Miss Elliot.  A widow Mrs Smith lodging in Westgate Buildings!  A poor widow barely able to live, between thirty and forty; a mere Mrs Smith, an every-day Mrs Smith, of all people and all names in the world, to be the chosen friend of Miss Anne Elliot, and to be preferred by her to her own family connections among the nobility of England and Ireland!  Mrs Smith!  Such a name!”