“Nay, I hope that you know me well enough not to be surprised by all that I have to reveal to you now that the opportunity has been given to me. Have you no inkling of what I am about to say, Miss Burney?”
“Not the least, sir. I expected only to see that relic of your grandfather's honourable career.”
“What, after meeting Uncle Kensit and Aunt Jelicoe, you do not feel interested in their families?” said he, in a tone of genuine surprise.
Fanny looked at him before she spoke, and there certainly was more than a note of casual interest in her voice as she said:
“Their families? Oh, I should like above all things to hear about their families.”
“I knew that you would,” said he, apparently much relieved. (She wondered if the relief that she felt was as apparent as his.) “Yes, I felt certain that you would welcome this opportunity of learning something about the Kensits and the Jelicoes. They are remarkable people, as you cannot have failed to perceive.”
He made a pause—-a pause that somehow had an interrogative tendency. She felt that he meant it to be filled up by her.
“They are remarkable people—very remarkable,” said she.
“We are very fortunate in all our relations, Miss Burney,” said he with great solemnity. “But, of course, Uncle Kensit stands high above them all in force of character. A great man indeed is Alderman Kensit—a member of the Haberdashers' and Grocers' Companies as well as the City Council, and yet quite ready to meet ordinary persons as fellow-men. He had heard the name of your friend, Sir Joshua Reynolds, though not the name of Dr. Burney, and he was kind enough to say that he would have no objection in the world to meet either of these gentlemen. That shows you what sort of man he is—his fine, simple nature. 'If Dr. Burney or Sir Joshua Reynolds were duly presented to me, I should feel it my duty to be civil to him '—those were his exact words.”
Once more there was an interrogative pause.