a sudden piece of luck—the death of her uncle, you know. If Mrs Transome were wise she would go to town—she can afford it now—and consult Dr Truncheon. I should say myself he would order her digitalis: I have often guessed exactly what a prescription would be. But it certainly was always one of her weak points to think that she understood medicine better than other people."
"She's a healthy woman enough, surely: see how upright she is, and she rides about like a girl of twenty."
"She is so thin that she makes me shudder."
"Pooh! she's slim and active; women are not bid for by the pound."
"Pray don't be so coarse."
Sir Maximus laughed and showed his good teeth, which made his laughter very becoming. The carriage stopped, and they were soon ushered into Mrs Transome's sitting-room, where she was working at her worsted embroidery. A little daily embroidery had been a constant element in Mrs Transome's life; that soothing occupation of taking stitches to produce what neither she nor any one else wanted, was then the resource of many a well-born and unhappy woman.
She received much warm congratulation and
