“But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. Stanley coughed and faced toward the house. ’ *** Everett, General Lord Charvill, master of a barony stretching over a wide estate that encroached on the hundreds of Witham, Thurstable and Dengy, stood before his own fireplace, glaring at his visitors from under bushy white brows from a head held necessarily low above a back painfully bent by rheumatism. He called to the other attendant, who held the torch. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. When I am leading a true life, a pure and simple life free of all stimulants and excitements, I think—I think— oh! with pellucid clearness; but if I so much as take a mouthful of meat—or anything—the mirror is all blurred.
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