"
"This raillery," cries Sophia, "is a little cruel, Lady Bellaston,
after my promise to your ladyship."
"Not at all, child," said the lady;-- "It would have been cruel
before; but after you have promised me never to marry your father's
consent, in which you know is implied your giving up Jones, sure you
can bear a little raillery on a passion which was pardonable enough in
a young girl in the country, and of which you tell me you have so
entirely got the better. What must I think, my dear Sophy, if you
cannot bear a little ridicule even on his dress? I shall begin to fear
you are very far gone indeed; and almost question whether you have
dealt ingenuously with me."
"Indeed, madam," cries Sophia, "your ladyship mistakes me, if you
imagine I had any concern on his account."
"On his account!" answered the lady: "You must have mistaken me; I
went no farther than his dress;-- for I would not injure your taste by
any other comparison-- I don't imagine, my dear Sophy, if your Mr.
Jones had been such a fellow as this-"
"I thought," says Sophia, "your ladyship had allowed him to be
handsome"--
"Whom, pray?" cried the lady hastily.
"Mr. Jones," answered Sophia;- and immediately recollecting
herself, "Mr. Jones!- no, no; I ask your pardon;- I mean the gentleman
who was just now here."
"O Sophy! Sophy!" cries the lady; "this Mr. Jones, I am afraid,
still runs in your head."
"Then, upon my honour, madam," said Sophia, "Mr.
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