"I suppose if the land will not bear both, one party will have to seek other quarters," said Mrs. Evelyn with an exquisite satisfaction which Fleda could hear in her voice. "You remember the story of Lot and Abraham, Mr. Stackpole,--when a quarrel arose between them?--not about roses."
Mr. Stackpole looked as if women were--to say the least--incomprehensible.
"Five thousand a week!" he repeated.
"I wish there was a Dead Sea for them all to sheer off into!" said Thorn.
"If you had seen the look of grave rebuke that speech called forth, Mr. Thorn," said Constance, "your feelings would have been penetrated--if you have any."
"I had forgotten," he said, looking round with a bland change of manner,--"what gentle charities were so near me."
"Mamma!" said Constance with a most comic shew of indignation,--"Mr. Thorn thought that with Miss Ringgan he had forgotten all the gentle charities in the room!--I am of no further use to society!--I will trouble you to ring that bell, Mr. Thorn, if you please. I shall request candles and retire to the privacy of my own apartment!"
"Not till you have permitted me to expiate my fault!" said Mr. Thorn laughing.
"It cannot be expiated!--My worth will be known at some future day.--Mr. Carleton, will you have the goodness to summon our domestic attendant?"
"If you will permit me to give the order," he said smiling, with his hand on the bell. "I am afraid you are hardly fit to be trusted alone."