CHAPTER IX.
LETTERS
Constance Hacket was very much excited about the address to Dolores's
letter to her uncle. She had not noticed it at the moment that it was
written, but she did when she posted it; and the next time she could
get her young friend alone, she eagerly demanded what Mr. Flinders had
to do with the Many Tongues, and why her niece wrote to him at the
office.
'He writes the criticisms,' said Dolores, magnificently; for though she
despised pluming herself on any connection with a marquess, she did
greatly esteem that with the world of letters. 'You know we are all
literary.'
'Oh yes, I know! But what kind of criticisms do you mean? I suppose
it is a very clever paper?'
'Of course it it,' said Dolores, 'but I don't think I ever saw it.
Father never takes in society papers. I believe he does criticisms on
plays and novels. I know he always has tickets for all the theatres
and exhibitions.
She did not say how she did know it, for a pang smote her as she
remembered dimly a scene, when her father had forbidden her mother to
avail herself of escort thus obtained. Nor was she sure that the word
all was accurately the fact; but it was delightful to impress
Constance, who cried, 'How perfectly delicious! I suppose he can get
any article into his paper!'
'Oh yes, of course,' said Dolores.
'Did your dear mother write in it?'
'No; it was not her line. She used to write metaphysical and scientific
articles in the first-class reviews and magazines, and the Many Tongues
is what they call a society paper, you know.
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