"Roden was here." Then there was silence. She was glad that her lover had been one of the guests, but she was not as yet moved to say anything respecting him. "And his mother."
"I am sure I shall like his mother," said Lady Frances.
"I have mentioned it," continued her brother, speaking with unusual care, "because, in compliance with the agreement I made at Trafford, I cannot ask him here again at present."
"I am sorry that I should be in your way, John."
"You are not in my way, as I think you know. Let us say no more than that at present. Then I had a singular old Quaker, named Zachary Fay, an earnest, honest, but humble man, who blew me up instantly for talking slang."
"Where did you pick him up?"
"He comes out of the City," he said, not wishing to refer again to Paradise Row and the neighbourhood of the Rodens,—"and he brought his daughter."
"A young lady?"
"Certainly a young lady."
"Ah, but young,—and beautiful?"