"Reclining."
"Well, yes, reclining in the arms of Mr. Hardinge in that lonely lane," said the Countess; "but we need refer to it no more. He must be a very reckless person, as Pompon saw him take leave of this creature with great tenderness, she says, at the door of that obscure inn at Whitchurch; so that explains all."
"Not quite," replied Guilfoyle.
"Perhaps not; but then it is no affair of ours, at all events, I must own that I always wondered what the Lloyds--Sir Madoc especially--saw in that young man, a mere subaltern of the line!"
"Precisely my view of the matter, Lady Naseby."
"Besides, your little baronet people are great sticklers for rank and dignity, and often affect a greater exclusiveness than those who rank above them."
"But as for this unfortunate woman," resumed Guilfoyle, who was loth to quit the subject.
"We have heard of her in our neighbourhood before," said Lady Naseby; "at least, Pompon has. She is good to all, especially the poor."
"Ah, doesn't care to hide her candle under a bushel, eh?"
"What do you mean, Mr. Guilfoyle?"