'
Maulevrier called in Arlington Street before twelve o'clock next day,
and found Lesbia just returning from her early ride, looking as fresh
and fair as if there had been no such thing as Nap or late hours in the
story of her life. She was reposing in a large easy chair by the open
window, in habit and hat, just as she had come from the Row, where she
had been laughing and chatting with Mr. Smithson, who jogged demurely by
her side on his short-legged hunter, dropping out envenomed little jokes
about the passers by. People who saw him riding by her side upon this
particular morning fancied there was something more than usual in the
gentleman's manner, and made up their minds that Lady Lesbia Haselden
was to be mistress of the fine house in Park Lane. Mr. Smithson had
fluttered and fluttered for the last five seasons; but this time the
flutterer was caught.
In her newly-awakened anxiety about money matters, Lesbia had forgotten
Mary's engagement: but the sight of Maulevrier recalled the fact.
'Come over here and sit down,' she said, 'and tell me this nonsense
about Mary.
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