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"Forty bedrooms!" she said, in scandalised tones. "The thing's rideeclous. Mair like an institution than a private hoose." "Oh, it's a gentleman's 'ouse," said Mawson proudly "the sort of thing Miss Reston's accustomed to. At Bidborough, I'm told, there's bedrooms to 'old a regiment, and the same at Mintern Abbas, but I've never been there yet.
"Awfu' English an' wi' a' the queer daft ways o' gentry. 'Oh, Miss Bathgate, a' the time. They tell me Miss Reston's considered a beauty in London. It's no' ma idea o' beauty a terrible lang neck an' a wee shilpit bit face, an' sic a height! I'm fair feared for ma gasaliers. An' forty if she's a day. But verra pleasant, ye ken.
"Of course it's more natural," said her sister, "but what's natural's never refined. That's a queer thing when you think of it." The Miss Watsons called on all their friends in the next few days, and did not fail to mention in each house, accidentally, as it were, that on Wednesday they expected to take tea with Miss Reston, and led on from that fact to glowing details of Miss Reston's ancestry.
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