There was more conversation, which it is unnecessary to repeat; but in
due course of time the ladies retired to the drawing-room, where they
found Miss Nugent awaiting them.
'Whose _beaux yeux_ do you think we have in the dining-room?' asked
Freda.
'I am thure I cannot gueth; perhapth Thir Hugh Prythe's,' Miss Nugent
lisped.
'Do you call his _beaux yeux_? Little ferret eyes like his! No; guess
again.'
'Young Rithe Rithe?'
'Wrong again.'
'Not Captain Lewith?'
'Some one much nearer home.'
'I do not know any one elthe, exthept that Mr Howel Jenkinth, who, they
thay, will be quite a grand man.'
'I do not even know him. What do you think of his cousin, Mr Rowland
Prothero?'
'I never thought about him; mamma thayth he ith very handthome, but I am
thure he is very _gauche_ and countrified.'
'Oh, I am sure he is not. You are greatly mistaken, he has been in
excellent society, and is going at once to a London living--curacy I
mean, but it is all the same.'
Miss Hall looked rather amazed at Freda. A few hours before she had been
lamenting the necessity of entertaining that 'stupid young Prothero.'
'Ith he really?' said Miss Nugent. 'The London curateth are tho
interething. There ith one at Tht Jameth'th, with a pale face and black
hair, and thuch a beautiful voice.
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