Well, I'm not going to say anything against Honnor, for she's so awfully
good-natured, you know; she allows her sisters-in-law to experiment on
her as an audience, and she has always something friendly and nice to
say, though I can guess what she thinks of it all. Now, what _do_ you
two talk about all day long?"
"Well, there's the fishing," said he, "for one thing."
"Oh, don't tell me!" exclaimed this impertinent young hussy (while "The
Voices of the Moonlight" moaned and mourned their mysterious regrets and
despairs at the far end of the drawing-room). "Don't tell _me_! Honnor
Cunyngham is far too good-looking for you to go talking salmon to her
all day long. Very handsome I call her; don't you? She's so
distinguished, somehow--so different from any one else. Of course you
don't notice it up here so much, where she prides herself on roughing
it--you never met her in London?--in London you should see her come
into a drawing-room--her walk and manner are simply splendid. She'll
never marry," continued this garrulous little person, with the
coquettish _pince-nez_ perched on her not too Grecian nose. "I'm sure
she won't. She despises men--all of them except her brother, Sir Hugh.
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