Do
you remember that day at lunch when he argued with Miss Alan that
liking one person is an extra reason for liking another?"
"Yes," said Lucy, whom at the time the argument had pleased.
"Well, I am no prude. There is no need to call him a wicked young
man, but obviously he is thoroughly unrefined. Let us put it down
to his deplorable antecedents and education, if you wish. But
we are no farther on with our question. What do you propose to
do?"
An idea rushed across Lucy's brain, which, had she thought of it
sooner and made it part of her, might have proved victorious.
"I propose to speak to him," said she.
Miss Bartlett uttered a cry of genuine alarm.
"You see, Charlotte, your kindness--I shall never forget it.
But--as you said--it is my affair. Mine and his."
"And you are going to IMPLORE him, to BEG him to keep silence?"
"Certainly not. There would be no difficulty. Whatever you ask
him he answers, yes or no; then it is over. I have been
frightened of him. But now I am not one little bit.
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