"There is no reason to doubt that Charles James Fox . . ." Mr. Burley began; but here Mrs. Stretton told him that she knew his sister well; had stayed with her not six weeks ago; and thought the house charming, but bleak in winter.
"Going about as girls do nowadays———" said Mrs. Forster.
Mr. Bowley looked round him, and catching sight of Rose Shaw moved towards her, threw out his hands, and exclaimed: "Well!"
"Nothing!" she replied. "Nothing at all—though I left them alone the entire afternoon on purpose."
"Dear me, dear me," said Mr. Bowley. "I will ask Jimmy to breakfast."
"But who could resist her?" cried Rose Shaw. "Dearest Clara—I know we mustn't try to stop you . . ."
"You and Mr. Bowley are talking dreadful gossip, I know," said Clara.
"Life is wicked—life is detestable!" cried Rose Shaw.
"There's not much to be said for this sort of thing, is there?" said Timothy Durrant to Jacob.
"Women like it."
"Like what?" said Charlotte Wilding, coming up to them.
"Where have you come from?" said Timothy. "Dining somewhere, I suppose."
"I don't see why not," said Charlotte.
"People must go downstairs," said Clara, passing. "Take Charlotte, Timothy. How d'you do, Mr. Flanders."
"How d'you do, Mr. Flanders," said Julia Eliot, holding out her hand. "What's been happening to you?"
