What has got into the girl? She is a different creature. That
present air of hers would take in London; better even than in this
out-of-the-world hole, it would be more appreciated. And what thousands
she has to carry it off well, or I ought to say, to carry it on well.
That good-for-nothing," he added, "does not even understand his luck."
There was an undertone in his voice which gave the bitter laugh with
which he tried to hide it an intensity that made Bulchester look at him
anxiously.
"You don't mean that you admire her so much as that?" he asked. Edmonson
laughed again.
"My admiration of any woman will not injure my digestion. I believe you
know my ideas on that subject. But such a figure for the head of one's
table, and such golden accompaniments to her presentablity--all mine,
you know, or to be mine, and here this young lordship steps in between.
Lordship; indeed! he thinks himself no less than a duke by his airs. But
I--." He stopped, and ground his teeth to swallow his rage, and his face
was so lowering that the other cried in trepidation:
"What are you going to do, Edmonson? Nothing,--nothing--uncomfortable,
you know, I hope?"
Edmonson turned slowly upon him with the blackness of his look
lightening into a smile as different from mirth as the brassy gleam
behind a thundercloud is from sunshine.
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