"I dare say she's a plump
creature with a high color--men like fat women with brick-tinted
complexions--they think it's healthy. Helen of Troy indeed! Pooh! Lennie
must be crazy."
The rest of their drive was very silent,-they were both absorbed in
their own reflections. On arriving at the Van Clupps', they found no one
at home--not even Marcia--so Lady Winsleigh drove her "dearest Mimsey"
back to her own house in Kensington, and there left her with many
expressions of tender endearment--then, returning home, proceeded to
make an elaborate and brilliant toilette for the enchantment and
edification of Sir Francis Lennox that evening. She dined alone, and was
ready for her admirer when he called for her in his private hansom, and
drove away with him to the theatre, where she was the cynosure of many
eyes; meanwhile her husband, Lord Winsleigh, was pressing a good-night
kiss on the heated forehead of an excited boy, who, plunging about in
his little bed and laughing heartily, was evidently desirous of
emulating the gambols of the clown who had delighted him that afternoon
at Hengler's.
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