But of course I regard the loss of a
seat to our side just now as a great disaster."
"Very grasping, on your part!" said Ashe. "You've had it all your own
way lately. Think of Portsmouth!"
Lady Grosville, however, as she met his bantering look, did not find
herself at all inclined to think of Portsmouth. She was much more
inclined to think of William Ashe. What a good-looking fellow he had
grown! She heaved an inward sigh, of mingled envy and appreciation,
directed towards Lady Tranmore.
Poor Susan indeed had suffered terribly in the death of her eldest son.
But the handsomer and abler of the two brothers still remained to
her--and the estate was safe. Lady Grosville thought of her own three
daughters, plain and almost dowerless; and of that conceited young man,
the heir, whom she could hardly persuade her husband to invite, once a
year, for appearance sake.
"Why are we so early?" said Ashe, looking at his watch. "I thought I
should be disgracefully late."
For he and Lady Grosville had the library to themselves. It was a fine,
book-walled room, with giallo antico columns and Adam decoration; and in
its richly colored lamp-lit space, the seated figure--stiffly erect--of
Lady Grosville, her profile, said by some to be like a horse and by
others to resemble Savonarola, the cap of old Venice point that crowned
her grizzled hair, her black velvet dress, and the long-fingered, ugly,
yet distinguished hands which lay upon her lap, told significantly;
especially when contrasted with the negligent ease and fresh-colored
youth of her companion.
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