Livingstone's? He had
so many old friends; but he did not always talk to them for a whole
evening without intermission. Ah! she was going to sing; that is, if
Mr. Livingstone had quite finished with her, and would let her go.
Little women with pink cheeks and dresses always _did_ sing, and never
had any voice.
I don't know how many more questions she put to me in the same quiet,
clear tones; but just then I happened to look down on the handkerchief
she held in her hand, and I saw a long rent in its broad Valenciennes
border that I am very sure was not there an hour ago; for Flora's
toilette, morning and evening, was faultless to a degree.
I had hardly time to remark this when Guy lounged up to us. My
companion's dark eyes were more eloquent than her lips, which quivered
slightly as she said,
"I wonder you have not more consideration. A new arrival in the county,
and compromised irretrievably! Look at Mr. Stafford now."
"The husband?" Guy said, with intense disdain; "the husband's helpless.
He may sharpen his--tusks, but he'll never come to battle. How good and
great you are! It is quite refreshing to hear your strictures on
innocent amusements. But I beg you will speak of that lady with due
respect; she is the first--yes, positively the first--woman I ever
loved.
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