Lady Fawn had been closeted with Lucy, and had expressed
her opinion of the impropriety of Frank Greystock's visit. "I suppose he
came to see his cousin," said Lady Fawn, anxious to begin with some
apology for such conduct.
"I cannot tell," said Lucy. "Perhaps he did. I think he said so. I think
he cared more to see me." Then Lady Fawn was obliged to express her
opinion, and she did so, uttering many words of wisdom. Frank Greystock,
had he intended to sacrifice his prospects by a disinterested marriage,
would have spoken out before now. He was old enough to have made up his
mind on such a subject, and he had not spoken out. He did not mean
marriage. That was quite evident to Lady Fawn; and her dear Lucy was
revelling in hopes which would make her miserable. If Lucy could only have
known of the letter, which was already her own property though lying in
the pillar letter-box in Fleet Street, and which had not already been sent
down and delivered simply because it was Sunday morning! But she was very
brave. "He does love me," she said. "He told me so."
"Oh, Lucy, that is worse and worse. A man to tell you that he loves you,
and yet not ask you to be his wife!"
"I am contented," said Lucy.
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