Who wants to see her?'
A pink and white young lady, with black tresses, violent, weeping, shrill,
voluble, was flouncing up the last stair, and shook her dress out on the
lobby; and poor old Giblets, as Milly used to call him, was following in
her wake, with many small remonstrances and entreaties, perfectly unheeded.
The moment I looked at this person, it struck me that she was the identical
lady whom I had seen in the carriage at Knowl Warren. The next moment I was
in doubt; the next, still more so. She was decidedly thinner, and dressed
by no means in such lady-like taste. Perhaps she was hardly like her at
all. I began to distrust all these resemblances, and to fancy, with a
shudder, that they originated, perhaps, only in my own sick brain.
On seeing me, this young lady--as it seemed to me, a good deal of the
barmaid or lady's-maid species--dried her eyes fiercely, and, with a
flaming countenance, called upon me peremptorily to produce her 'lawful
husband.' Her loud, insolent, outrageous attack had the effect of enhancing
my indignation, and I quite forget what I said to her, but I well remember
that her manner became a good deal more decent.
Pages:
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596