Cavely said to Mary.
"I am much obliged to you; I do not dine out at present," said the London
lady.
"Dear me! are you ill?"
"No."
"Nothing in the family, I hope?"
"My family?"
"I am sure, I beg pardon," said Mrs. Cavely, bridling with a spite
pardonable by the severest moralist.
"Can I speak to you alone?" she addressed Annette.
Miss Fellingham rose.
Mrs. Cavely confronted her. "I can't allow it; I can't think of it. I'm
only taking a little liberty with one I may call my future
sister-in-law."
"Shall I come out with you?" said Annette, in sheer lassitude assisting
Mary Fellingham in her scheme to show the distastefulness of this lady
and her brother.
"Not if you don't wish to."
"I have no objection."
"Another time will do."
"Will you write?"
"By post indeed!"
Mrs. Cavely delivered a laugh supposed to, be peculiar to the English
stage.
"It would be a penny thrown away," said Annette. "I thought you could
send a messenger."
Intercommunication with Miss Fellingham had done mischief to her high
moral conception of the pair inhabiting the house on the beach.
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