"
"Very, I should think," Hilda agreed. "You must be satisfied with a
faithful report of it. I promise you that."
"You have asked Mr. Lindsay," Alicia complained.
"That's quite a different thing--and if I hadn't Llewellyn Stanhope
would. Stanhope cherishes Duff as he cherishes the critic of the
_Chronicle_. He refers to him as a pillar of the legitimate. Whenever he
begs me to turn the Norwegian crank, he says, 'I'm sure Mr. Lindsay
would come.'"
Miss Howe was at the top of the staircase in Middleton street, on the
point of departure. It was to be the night of her last appearance for
the season and her benefit, followed by a supper in her honour, at which
Mr. Stanhope and his company would take leave of those whose
acquaintance, as he expressed it, business and pleasure had given them
during the months that were past. It was this function that Alicia, at
the top of the staircase, so ardently desired to attend.
"No, I won't kiss you," Hilda said, as the other put her cool cheek
forward; "I'm so divinely happy--some of it might escape."
Alicia's voice pursued her as she ran down stairs. "Remember," she said,
"I don't approve. I don't at all agree either with my reverend cousin or
with you.
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