when were ever two women averse to talk of a man?

She commonly sought Fanny's sofa when she returned from her rambles
through the city, and gave a sufficiently strict account of what had
happened. This was done light-heartedly and with touches of burlesque
and extravagance at first; but the reports grew presently to have a more
serious tone, and latterly Kitty had been so absent at times that she
would fall into a puzzled silence in the midst of her narration; or else
she would meet a long procession of skilfully marshalled questions with
a flippancy that no one but a martyr could have suffered. But Mrs.
Ellison bore all and would have borne much more in that cause. Battled
at one point, she turned to another, and the sum of her researches was
often a clearer perception of Kitty's state of mind than the young girl
herself possessed. For her, indeed, the whole affair was full of mystery
and misgiving.

"Our acquaintance has the charm of novelty every time we meet," she said
once, when pressed hard by Mrs. Ellison. "We are growing better
strangers, Mr. Arbuton and I. By and by, some morning, we shall not know
each other by sight. I can barely recognize him now, though I thought I
knew him pretty well once. I want you to understand that I speak as an
unbiassed spectator, Fanny."

"O Kitty! how can you accuse me of trying to pry into your affairs!"
cries injured Mrs. Ellison, and settles herself in a more comfortable
posture for listening.

"I don't accuse you of anything. I'm sure you've a right to know
everything about me. Only, I want you really to know."