Miss Hatchard reasoned with her kindly, but to no purpose; she simply
repeated: "I guess Mr. Royall's too lonesome."
Miss Hatchard blinked perplexedly behind her eye-glasses. Her long frail
face was full of puzzled wrinkles, and she leant forward, resting her
hands on the arms of her mahogany armchair, with the evident desire to
say something that ought to be said.
"The feeling does you credit, my dear."
She looked about the pale walls of her sitting-room, seeking counsel of
ancestral daguerreotypes and didactic samplers; but they seemed to make
utterance more difficult.
"The fact is, it's not only--not only because of the advantages. There
are other reasons. You're too young to understand----"
"Oh, no, I ain't," said Charity harshly; and Miss Hatchard blushed to
the roots of her blonde cap. But she must have felt a vague relief at
having her explanation cut short, for she concluded, again invoking the
daguerreotypes: "Of course I shall always do what I can for you; and in
case.
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