"Mamma, your worsted work looks beautiful upon that ottoman; I could almost fancy that rose had perfume, it is so natural."
"Just the opinion of a girl who follows a man's occupation, instead of her own feminine amusements: had you any knowledge of work, you would have thought otherwise." Her mother gave a glance of disdain at the ottoman.
"I assure you, mamma, I understand all the stitches. Miss Boscawen taught me."
"One old maid teaching another, Bell."
"I don't think I shall dislike being single, mamma. Miss Boscawen looks so beautifully dressed, so clean, not at all like your descriptions of old maids."
"If you had any anxiety to be established like your sisters, Bell, you might please and amuse me in my seclusion. No one comes near me now, not even Miss Wycherly, who was always at Wetheral with Julia. I don't understand it. You might bring about an intimacy with Frank Kerrison, Bell, and ask him here to read with you. He will inherit Ripley, you know."
"Mamma, I don't like Frank Kerrison, he swears so."
"Nonsense, you matter-of-fact thing: if he swears now, it does not follow he will always swear."
"But papa says, it is seldom left off. I don't like Frank, he is so violent with his sisters."
"But you would be his wife, not his sister, child. What stupid notions you have!"