“Oh! like it?—very well; but she’s very young—there’s no great hurry; I would not hurry her.”
“Pooh!” exclaimed Mrs. Kincton Knox, turning abruptly away from her husband, one of whose teasing hallucinations was that Clara had hardly emerged from the nursery.
CHAPTER XLII.
CONFIDENCES
Mrs. Kincton Knox, still in walking costume, entered the school-room, intending to invite the pseudo-tutor to continue his walk with her; and with one of her awful smiles she began:
“I’ve come to claim your promise, Mr. Maubray.”
The name had escaped her. It reverberated in her ear like a cannon-shot. Hardly less astounded stood our friend William before her. For a full minute she could not think of a presentable fib, and stared at him a good deal flushed, and dropped her huge, goggle eyes upon a “copy book” of Master Howard’s, which she raised and inspected with a sudden interest, and having read—
“Necessity is the mo”