You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. \" She knew he was blushing in the dark. Let me put the main question to you now that I could not put the other afternoon. She trembled; but she did not know why. —Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. It was really very jolly to talk to a man in this way—who saw the woman in her and did not treat her as a child. He said nothing. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. He had had five children at irregular intervals, of whom Ann Veronica was the youngest, so that as a parent he came to her perhaps a little practised and jaded and inattentive; and he called her his “little Vee,” and patted her unexpectedly and disconcertingly, and treated her promiscuously as of any age between eleven and eight-and-twenty. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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