Sir Willoughby dropped Laetitia; Clara's look of a sedate resolution to preserve silence on the topic of the nuptial gifts made a diversion imperative.
"Your porcelain was exquisitely chosen, and I profess to be a connoisseur," he said. "I am poor in Old Saxony, as you know; I can match the country in Savres, and my inheritance of China will not easily be matched in the country."
"You may consider your Dragon vases a present from young Crossjay," said De Craye.
"How?"
"Hasn't he abstained from breaking them? the capital boy! Porcelain and a boy in the house together is a case of prospective disaster fully equal to Flitch and a fly."
"You should understand that my friend Horace—whose wit is in this instance founded on another tale of a boy—brought us a magnificent piece of porcelain, destroyed by the capsizing of his conveyance from the station," said Sir Willoughby to Lady Busshe.
She and Lady Culmer gave out lamentable Ohs, while Miss Eleanor and Miss Isabel Patterne sketched the incident. Then the lady visitors fixed their eyes in united sympathy upon Clara: recovering from which, after a contemplation of marble, Lady Busshe emphasized, "No, you do not love porcelain, it is evident, Miss Middleton."
"I am glad to be assured of it," said Lady Culmer.
"Oh, I know that face: I know that look," Lady Busshe affected to remark rallyingly: "it is not the first time I have seen it."
Sir Willoughby smarted to his marrow. "We will rout these fancies of an overscrupulous generosity, my dear Lady Busshe."