Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. There you are, the best client’s chair. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. He found his youngest daughter intrusive in his thoughts all through the morning, and still more so in the afternoon. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. “Dear husband,” she murmured. She moved a little nearer to him. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges.
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