“I am too much prostrated by these conflicting griefs and joys to be able to concentrate my mind upon affairs; I will ask our good friend here to break the news by wire or post to the Lady Gwendolen and instruct her to—”
“What Lady Gwendolen?”
“Our poor daughter, who, alas!—”
“Sally Sellers? Mulberry Sellers, are you losing your mind?”
“There—please do not forget who you are, and who I am; remember your own dignity, be considerate also of mine. It were best to cease from using my family name, now, Lady Rossmore.”
“Goodness gracious, well, I never! What am I to call you then?”
“In private, the ordinary terms of endearment will still be admissible, to some degree; but in public it will be more becoming if your ladyship will speak to me as my lord, or your lordship, and of me as Rossmore, or the Earl, or his Lordship, and—”
“Oh, scat! I can’t ever do it, Berry.”
“But indeed you must, my love—we must live up to our altered position and submit with what grace we may to its requirements.”
“Well, all right, have it your own way; I’ve never set my wishes against your commands yet, Mul—my lord, and it’s late to begin now, though to my mind it’s the rottenest foolishness that ever was.”