"I can't think."
"And aunt?"
"I don't think your—aunt" (Mr. Wycherly was just going to say "excellent," but restrained himself) "will be much surprised."
Jane-Anne sighed deeply. "I shall never be a Norland Nurse now," she said sadly. "I've lost my character."
"I'm afraid you have."
"Do you mind very much?"
"Upon my soul," said Mr. Wycherly, "I don't care a brass farthing."
CHAPTER XV
THE PHILOSOPHY OF BEAUTY
"The foundation of beauty is a reasonable order addressed to the imagination through the senses." PHILEBUS.