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Updated: June 13, 2025
They had risen together to come upstairs; he had been talking at the last about some of the people, at the very last of all about Lady Castledean and Mr. Blint; after which she had once more broken ground on the matter of the "type" of Gloucester.
We can wire," she wound up, "from there." Ever so quietly she had brought it, as she had thought it, all out, and it had to be as covertly that he let his appreciation expand. "Then Lady Castledean ?" "Doesn't dream of our staying." He took it, but thinking yet. "Then what does she dream ?" "Of Mr. Blint, poor dear; of Mr. Blint only." Her smile for him for the Prince himself was free.
If the outlook was in every way spacious and the towers of three cathedrals, in different counties, as had been pointed out to him, gleamed discernibly, like dim silver, in the rich sameness of tone didn't he somehow the more feel it so because, precisely, Lady Castledean had kept over a man of her own, and that this offered a certain sweet intelligibility as the note of the day?
That was what she was learning to do, to fill out as a matter of course her appointed, her expected, her imposed character; and, though there were latent considerations that somewhat interfered with the lesson, she was having to-night an inordinate quantity of practice, none of it so successful as when, quite wittingly, she directed it at Lady Castledean, who was reduced by it at last to an unprecedented state of passivity.
All of which, besides, in Lady Castledean as in Maggie, in Fanny Assingham as in Charlotte herself, was working; for him without provocation or pressure, by the mere play of some vague sense on their part definite and conscious at the most only in Charlotte that he was not, as a nature, as a character, as a gentleman, in fine, below his remarkable fortune.
"Because every one who may have anything to tell, you hold, will have been so squared?" And then inveterately, before she could say he enjoyed so much coming to this: "What will have squared Lady Castledean?" "The consciousness" she had never lost her promptness "of having no stones to throw at any one else's windows. She has enough to do to guard her own glass.
Blint seriously he was much more an outsider, by the larger scale, even than a Roman prince who consented to be in abeyance. Yet it was past finding out, either, how such a woman as Lady Castledean could take him since this question but sank for him again into the fathomless depths of English equivocation.
If the outlook was in every way spacious and the towers of three cathedrals, in different counties, as had been pointed out to him, gleamed discernibly, like dim silver, in the rich sameness of tone didn't he somehow the more feel it so because, precisely, Lady Castledean had kept over a man of her own, and that this offered a certain sweet intelligibility as the note of the day?
"We're in the train," Maggie mutely reflected after the dinner in Eaton Square with Lady Castledean; "we've suddenly waked up in it and found ourselves rushing along, very much as if we had been put in during sleep shoved, like a pair of labelled boxes, into the van.
In this other scene it was Lady Castledean who was determinant, who kindled the light, or at all events the heat, and who acted on the nerves; Lady Castledean whom she knew she, so oddly, didn't like, in spite of reasons upon reasons, the biggest diamonds on the yellowest hair, the longest lashes on the prettiest, falsest eyes, the oldest lace on the most violet velvet, the rightest manner on the wrongest assumption.
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