“I don’t know, George.”
“It’s to play propriety, I suppose.”
“Mrs Hampton has always been very kind to me, and I know it inconveniences her to be here.”
“Then let her go.”
“She has asked me to go and stay with her, George.”
“Then don’t go. I see: let her stay here. I’m rather sick of all this prudery, though. Better name the day, Gertie, and let’s get it over.”
“No, no; not yet, George. Give me a little time.”
“Well, well, I won’t be hard upon you, and I do want to see a little London life before that comes off.”
He left the room, and Mrs Hampton, a tall, severe-looking lady in black silk, came slowly in, gazing at the dreamy-eyed girl, who did not seem to note her presence, as she took up some work, sat down in an easy-chair, and began to knit.
“Young, an enormous fortune, but I pity her,” said the elderly lady to herself.