"All these years in London and not know Adela Sellingworth!"

"I know about her, of course. I know she was a famous beauty when King
Edward was Prince of Wales, and was tremendously prominent in society
after he came to the throne. But I have never seen her about since I
have been settled in London. To tell the honest truth, I thought Lady
Sellingworth was what is called a back number."

"Adela Sellingworth a back number!"

Braybrooke bristled gently and caught his beard-point with his
broad-fingered right hand. His small, observant hazel eyes rebuked
Craven mildly, and he slightly shook his head, covered with thick,
crinkly and carefully brushed hair.

"Well--but," Craven protested. "But surely she long ago retired from the
fray! Isn't she over sixty?"

"She is about sixty. But that is nothing nowadays."

"No doubt she had a terrific career."

"Terrific! What do you mean exactly by terrific?"

"Why, that she was what used to be called a professional beauty, a
social ruler, immensely distinguished and smart and all that sort of
thing. But I understood that she suddenly gave it all up. I remember
someone telling me that she abdicated, and that those who knew her best
were most surprised about it."