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The girl had by this time clearly made it out. "Nothing but to admire and make much of her sister whom she doesn't, however, herself in the least understand and give up one's time, and everything else, to it." It struck the elder friend that she spoke with an almost unprecedented approach to sharpness; as if Mrs. Condrip had been rather specially disconcerting.
Condrip, if you know who I mean, who lives somewhere in Chelsea. My other niece and her affairs that I should have to say such things to-day! are a constant worry; so that Kate, in consequence well, of events! has simply been called in. My own idea, I'm bound to say, was that with such events she need have, in her situation, next to nothing to do." "But she differed with you?"
She made up for failures of gravity by failures of mirth; if she hadn't, that is, been at times as earnest as might have been liked, so she was certain not to be at other times as easy as she would like herself. "I must face the music. It isn't, at any rate, its 'coming out," she added; "it's that Mrs. Condrip would put the fact before her to his injury." Her companion wondered. "But how to his?"
"He has been to see you?" "No, I went to him." "Really?" Marian wondered. "For what purpose?" "To tell him I'm ready to go to him." Marian stared. "To leave Aunt Maud ?" "For my father, yes." She had fairly flushed, poor Mrs. Condrip, with horror. "You're ready ?" "So I told him. I couldn't tell him less." "And, pray, could you tell him more?" Marian gasped in her distress.
Kate reflected sharply enough on the weak points of this fond fiction, with the result at last of a certain chill for her sister's confidence; though Mrs. Condrip still took refuge in the plea which was after all the great point that their aunt would be munificent when their aunt should be pleased.
A part of the queerness this was to come to him in glimpses sprang from the air as of a general large misfit imposed on the narrow room by the scale and mass of its furniture. The objects, the ornaments were, for the sisters, clearly relics and survivals of what would, in the case of Mrs. Condrip at least, have been called better days.
Condrip had replied without it that she might do as she liked. She often received such inquiries as if they reflected in a manner on the pure essence of her little ones.
Condrip had not altogether proved another Mrs. Nickleby, nor even for she might have proved almost anything, from the way poor worried Kate had spoken a widowed and aggravated Mrs. Micawber. Mrs.
Condrip, the parson of a dull suburban parish, with a saintly profile which was always in evidence, being so distinctly on record to keep criticism consistent. He had presented his profile on system, having, goodness knew, nothing else to present nothing at all to full-face the world with, no imagination of the propriety of living and minding his business.
Oh, she didn't speak of that. I don't think," she added as if she had been unconsciously giving a wrong impression, "I don't think Mrs. Condrip imagines she's in love." It made Mrs. Stringham stare in turn. "Then what's her fear?" "Well, only the fact of Mr. Densher's possibly himself keeping it up the fear of some final result from that.
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