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Updated: June 10, 2025
"I beg you not to wear that face with me," she said to him. "I have had to dissemble, which I hate, and I have quite enough to endure, and I must be amused, or I shall run away from you and enlist that little countryman of yours, and him I can count on to be professionally restorative. Who can fathom the heart of a girl! Here is Lady Busshe right once more! And I was wrong.
He had them in his brain: for while burning with an ardour for Laetitia, that incited him to frantic excesses of language and comportment, he was aware of shouts of the names of Lady Busshe and Mrs.
"But, my dears, we are in the secret." "How did she behave?" whispered Lady Busshe. "No high flights and flutters, I do hope. She was well-connected, they say; though I don't comprehend what they mean by a line of scholars one thinks of a row of pinafores: and she was pretty." "That is well enough at the start. It never will stand against brains.
I, for my part, wish to be remembered favourably. I put it as a test of breeding to speak of these things as plain matter-of-fact. You marry; I wish you to have something by you to remind you of me. What shall it be? useful or ornamental. For an ordinary household the choice is not difficult. But where wealth abounds we are in a dilemma." "And with persons of decided tastes," added Lady Busshe.
She and Lady Culmer gave out lamentable Ohs, while Miss Eleanor and Miss Isabel Patterne sketched the incident. Then the lady visitors fixed their eyes in united sympathy upon Clara: recovering from which, after a contemplation of marble, Lady Busshe emphasized, "No, you do not love porcelain, it is evident, Miss Middleton." "I am glad to be assured of it," said Lady Culmer.
We must teach her to make amends to him but don't listen to Lady Busshe! He was too young at twenty-three or twenty-four. No young man is ever jilted; he is allowed to escape. A young man married is a fire-eater bound over to keep the peace; if he keeps it he worries it. At thirty-one or thirty-two he is ripe for his command, because he knows how to bend.
He had won a desperate battle, but what had he won? What had the world given him in return for his efforts to gain it? Just a shirt, it might be said: simple scanty clothing, no warmth. Lady Busshe was unbearable; she gabbled; she was ill-bred, permitted herself to speak of Dr. Middleton as ineligible, no loss to the county. And Mrs.
Thus it happened that when Lady Busshe and Lady Culmer quitted the dining-room, Miss Middleton had spirited herself away from summoning voice and messenger. Sir Willoughby apologized for her absence. "If I could be jealous, it would be of that boy Crossjay." "You are an excellent man, and the best of cousins," was Lady Busshe's enigmatical answer.
She has money; she was never the match for our hero; never; I saw it yesterday, and before, often; and so he hands her over tuthe-rum-tum-tum, tuthe-rum-tum-tum," Lady Busshe struck a quick march on her knee. "Now isn't that clever guessing? The shadow of a clue for me. And because I know human nature. One peep, and I see the combination in a minute.
"Tut-tut. Modern gentlemen are not so formal; they are creatures of impulse and take a pride in it. He spoke. We settle that. But where did you get this tale of a refusal?" "I have it from Dr. Middleton." "From Dr. Middleton?" shouted Lady Busshe. "The Middletons are here," said Lady Culmer. "What whirl are we in?" Lady Busshe got up, ran two or three steps and seated herself in another chair.
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