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378 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2005
"Caroline listened to herself with rising mortification: if it were possible to blabber worse nonsense, she could not see how"
"Oh, the respectable world and I are on easy terms. I ignore it when I choose, and it does likewise with me"
"There is no beautifier like sympathy"
"But Reason’s voice could not always be heard above the clamour of self-doubt"
"when everyone is used to being open and honest, then no one will get hurt by such things"
"I should say no more. Because when we dislike someone we are always very ready to believe any ill of them"
"who lives upon hope dies fasting, they say"
The family had long been prosperously settled in Huntingdonshire. If they were notable at all, it was for a habit of not distinguishing themselves; and as no firmer warrant for respectability could be imagined, they continued to enjoy the widespread esteem of their acquaintance, to be buried with due formality in the vault at Wythorpe church when they died, and to be absolutely forgotten straight afterwards.
Caroline did not lack for partners in the succeeding dances, and one flushed young man who had drunk too much wine repeatedly informed her, with more gallantry than exactitude, that she was a magnificent Tigress. It was partly to escape the attentions of this zoological gentleman that she withdrew to the card room.
Mrs Catling’s personal maid— a little pinched comfit-chewer with a look of settled, not to say lifelong discontent.
Mr Leabrook seemed to find nothing in her silence or awkward looks to disconcert him, however; and proceeded in his soft yet precise voice, like the purposeful padding of cat’s feet.He never uses a common word when a more obscure one will do, but that didn’t bother me and my vocabulary appreciated it.
He still tended to speak too partially of his own feelings, and to suppose that his idiosyncrasies were of necessity interesting; whereas she could not be convinced, even by ever so emphatic a manner, that a violent dislike of onion-sauce called for any special comment, still less admiration. But he was sincere and well-meaning, of that she was sure; and she felt for his difficult situation. Indeed, it was this that made Caroline his partisan.
He was one of the few men she had seen who suited the fashionable Windswept style that his thick black hair was dressed in— perhaps because he seemed always caught in a gust of emotion.
She had moved amongst many circles in her life, some clever, some stupid, some moneyed, some threadbare, but all more or less sophisticated, and not inclined to expect much virtue in others, or to cultivate it in themselves. It came as a revelation, not quite commensurate with the proven existence of the fairies, but almost as charming and bewildering, that all the time there had been this other race of beings: kind, gentle, reliable, unworldly.
She was a garrulous woman who had long been listened to with rather too much indulgence, and who was a little too inclined to consider herself a Character, on no greater evidence than a continual compulsion to talk about herself, and some large rings.
As to why Mrs Catling should play this unpleasant game, perhaps no further reason needed to be sought than that it gave her pleasure to meddle, mar, and hurt: this human propensity not being so uncommon as ever to excite surprise when detected.