"She may be tired of his eyrie."
The sound of the word in Vernon's mouth smote on a consciousness she had of his full grasp of Sir Willoughby and her own timid knowledge, though he was not a man who played on words.
If he had eased his heart in stressing the first syllable, it was only temporary relief. He was heavy-browed enough.
"But I cannot conceive what she expects me to do by confiding her sense of her position to me," said Laetitia.
"We none of us know what will be done. We hang on Willoughby, who hangs on whatever it is that supports him: and there we are in a swarm."
"You see the wisdom of staying, Mr. Whitford."
"It must be over in a day or two. Yes, I stay."
"She inclines to obey you."
"I should be sorry to stake my authority on her obedience. We must decide something about Crossjay, and get the money for his crammer, if it is to be got. If not, I may get a man to trust me. I mean to drag the boy away. Willoughby has been at him with the tune of gentleman, and has laid hold of him by one ear. When I say 'her obedience,' she is not in a situation, nor in a condition to be led blindly by anybody. She must rely on herself, do everything herself. It's a knot that won't bear touching by any hand save hers."
"I fear . . ." said Laetitia.