I could have boxed my odious ears. I could
almost have jumped from the window.
I felt that Lord Ilbury saw it. I saw Lady Mary's eyes for a moment resting
gravely on my tell-tale--my lying cheeks--for I really had begun to think
much less celestially of Captain Oakley. I was angry with Cousin Monica,
who, knowing my blushing infirmity, had mentioned her nephew so suddenly
while I was strapped by etiquette in my chair, with my face to the window,
and two pair of most disconcerting eyes, at least, opposite. I was angry
with myself--generally angry--refused more tea rather dryly, and was
laconic to Lord Ilbury, all which, of course, was very cross and foolish;
and afterwards, from my bed-room window, I saw Cousin Monica and Lady
Mary among the flowers, under the drawing-room window, talking, as I
instinctively knew, of that little incident. I was standing at the glass.
'My odious, stupid, _perjured_ face' I whispered, furiously, at the same
time stamping on the floor, and giving myself quite a smart slap on the
cheek. 'I _can't_ go down--I'm ready to cry--I've a mind to return to
Bartram to-day; I am _always_ blushing; and I wish that impudent Captain
Oakley was at the bottom of the sea.
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