"No, my Lady. I shouldn't presume, my Lady. But, of course, when I heard as it was Madame Darcy, I couldn't help thinking——"
"I do not employ you to think, Stimson. I understand you to say that the lady's name was Madame Darcy? Surely my daughter met a Madame Darcy the other night, somewhere?"
"Yes, my Lady, at Mr. Stanley's dinner."
"It is quite immaterial to me where Lady Isabelle met this person. But, as you say, it was at Mr. Stanley's dinner. So I infer she must be a friend of his."
"She's not staying at the Hall, my Lady."
"No," said the Marchioness. "I shouldn't have supposed she would stay at the Hall. Stimson, you may get me my bonnet and a light shawl."
"But I thought your Ladyship said as how you was not well enough to go out this morning."
"I said, Stimson, that you could get me my bonnet and a light shawl. Perhaps a little air will do me good."
"If your Ladyship was thinking of taking a little stroll, it's very pretty towards the Coombe Farm, not ten minutes' walk across the Park to the left of the house."
"As you very well know, Stimson," her mistress remarked with asperity, "I am too nearly tottering on the brink of the grave to venture out of the garden. Perhaps there is a side-door by which I can leave the house and be alone. I shouldn't have the strength to talk to anybody."