"
"How very odd."
"Why odd, Mr. Greystock?"
"Because I feel exactly in the same way about her. I am not in the least
afraid that she'll bite me; and as for caressing the animal--that kind of
caressing which you mean--it seems to me to be just what she's made for.
But I do feel sometimes that she is like a cat."
"Something not quite so tame as a cat," said Lucy.
"Nevertheless she is very lovely, and very clever. Sometimes I think her
the most beautiful woman I ever saw in the world."
"Do you, indeed?"
"She will be immensely run after as Lady Fawn. When she pleases she can
make her own house quite charming. I never knew a woman who could say
pretty things to so many people at once."
"You are making her out to be a paragon of perfection, Mr. Greystock."
"And when you add to all the rest that she has four thousand a year, you
must admit that Lord Fawn is a lucky man."
"I have said nothing against it."
"Four thousand a year is a very great consideration, Lucy."
Lucy for a while said nothing. She was making up her mind that she would
say nothing--that she would make no reply indicative of any feeling on her
part.
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