"The Wortleys, Selina, my own Agnes."
"O, your old clergyman's daughter! You constant little dove, you don't mean that you have kept up that romantic friendship all these years?"
"Why, Selina!"
"Yes, yes, I remember all about them now: the daughter was your great friend."
"She was more yours," said Marian, "when you were at Fern Torr, because you were more nearly the same age. Don't you remember how you used to whisper under the sycamore tree, and send me out of the way?"
"Poor little Marian! Well, those were merry times, and I rather think your Agnes promised to be very pretty."
"And shall not you be glad to see her?"
"When do they come?"
"Next Monday, to—Cadogan Place."
"Close to you. Well, that is lucky; but now, my dear, if you can come down from the clouds for a moment, I want to tell you about Lady Julia."