There was a sarcastic sparkle in her eyes. Mrs. Dinks had long felt that she and Fanny were contesting a prize. At this moment, while she knew that she had not won, she was sure that Fanny had lost.
Fanny was prepared for such a reception. She did not shrink. She remembered the great Burt fortune. But before she could speak Mrs. Dinks rose, and, with an air of contemptuous defiance, inquired,
“Where are you living, Mrs. Dinks?”
Mr. Alfred looked at his wife in profound perplexity. He thought, for his part, that he was living in that very house. But his wife answered, quietly,
“We are at Bunker’s, where we shall be delighted to see you. Good-morning, Mrs. Dinks.”
And Fanny took her husband by the arm and went out, having entirely confounded her mother-in-law, who meant to have wished her children good-morning, and then have left them to their embarrassment. But victory seemed to perch upon Fanny’s standards along the whole line.
CHAPTER XXXVI. — THE BACK WINDOW.
Lawrence Newt was not unmindful of the difference of age between Amy Waring and himself; and instinctively he did nothing which could show to others that he felt more for her than for a friend. Younger men, who could not help yielding to the charm of her presence, never complained of him. He was never “that infernal old bore, Lawrence Newt,” to them. More than one of them, in the ardor of young feeling, had confided his passion to Lawrence, who said to him, bravely, “My dear fellow, I do not wonder you feel so. God speed you—and so will I, all I can.”