“I will have a palace in town.”
The lady bowed.
“I will have a fair wife. Why, Miss Manvers, you forget to bow!”
“I really beg your pardon!”
“Come, this is a novel way of making an offer, and, I hope, a successful one.”
“Julia, my dear,” cried a voice in the veranda, “Julia, my dear, I want you to walk with me.”
“Say you are engaged with the Marchioness,” whispered Vivian, with a low but distinct—voice; his eyes fixed on the table, and his lips not appearing to move.
“Mamma, I am—”
“I want you immediately and particularly, Julia,” cried Lady Louisa, in an earnest voice.
“I am coming, I am coming. You see I must go.”