“Off with your bonnets!” she cried joyfully as she kissed Katherine and began to untie the elaborate bow of pink satin ribbon under her chin. “Why, Kate, how lovely you have grown! I thought you would be just an ordinary Yorkshire girl—I find you extraordinary. Upon my word! You are a beauty!”
“Thank you, aunt. Mother never told me so.”
“Annie, do you hear Kate?”
“I thought it wiser not to tell her such things.”
“What trumpery nonsense! Do you say to your roses as they bloom, ‘Do not imagine, Miss Rose, that you are lovely, and have a fine perfume. You are well enough and your smell isn’t half-bad, but there are roses far handsomer and sweeter than you are’?”
“In their own way, Josepha, all roses are perfect.”
“In their own way, Annie, all women are perfect. Have you had your breakfast?”
“An hour ago.”
“Then let us talk. Where is Antony? What is he doing?”
“He is doing well. I think he went to see Lord John Russell.”