"You shall hear. It was a dull enough evening till the very end. There was Maurice looking as black as thunder at May Anderson; and Magdalen Scott and Harry—not flirting, they have not sense enough for that—but making themselves ridiculous; and everybody else as usual."
"Why was Maurice looking black at May?"
"Because she was talking about you. It's not safe for anybody to talk about you before Maurice, I can tell you. But I don't want to talk about them, but about myself. Do you know what has happened?"
"How should I till you tell me?"
"Well, you might guess; but, I suppose, since Mr. Percy came, he has prevented you from seeing anything beyond himself."
"Don't be absurd, Bella; I can always see you, at any rate."
"And yet you can't guess? Well, then, my dear, I have altered my mind."
"What about?"
"Only yesterday I meant to be an old maid, and now I don't."
Lucia clapped her hands. "Oh, Bella! is it Doctor Morton?"