"I don't think they put clerks into livery, even in England."
"Nor yet mad doctors," said Olivia. "Well, I like him very much; and the only thing against him is that he should have a man, six feet high, going about with him doing nothing."
"You'll make me angry, Livy, if you talk in that way. It's uncharitable."
"In what way?"
"About a mad doctor."
"It's my belief," said Olivia, "that he's an English swell, a lord, or a duke;—and it's my belief, too, that he's in love with you."
"It's my belief, Livy, that you're a regular ass;"—and so the conversation was ended on that occasion.
On the next day, about noon, the American Minister, as a part of the duty which he owed to his country, read in a publication of that day, issued for the purpose, the names of the new arrivals at Florence. First and foremost was that of the Honourable Charles Glascock, with his suite, at the York Hotel, en route to join his father, Lord Peterborough, at Naples. Having read the news first to himself, the minister read it out loud in the presence of his nieces.
"That's our friend C. G.," said Livy.
"I should think not," said the minister, who had his own ideas about an English lord.