She began to tremble and heave, and defend herself feebly.
"What have I to do with that? You mustn't."
"How can I help it? You know the woman I love--I adore--and would not the
smallest cottage in England be a palace if I was blessed with her sweet
love and her divine company? Oh, Zoe, Zoe!"
Then she did defend herself, after a fashion: "I won't listen to
such--Edward!" Having uttered his name with divine tenderness, she put
her hands to her blushing face, and fled from him. At the head of the
stairs she encountered Fanny, looking satirical. She reprimanded her.
"Fanny," said she, "you really must not do _that"_--[pause]--"out of our
own grounds. Kiss me, darling. I am a happy girl." And she curled round
Fanny, and panted on her shoulder.
Miss Artful, known unto men as Fanny Dover, had already traced out in her
own mind a line of conduct, which the above reprimand, minus the above
kisses, taken at their joint algebraical value, did not disturb. The fact
is, Fanny hated home; and liked Vizard Court above all places. But she
was due at home, and hanging on to the palace of comfort by a thread. Any
day her mother, out of natural affection and good-breeding, might write
for her; and unless one of her hosts interfered, she should have to go.
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