Chapter Eight
Now, I’m a troll o’ few words. I can no more manage eloquence than I can dance a quadrille, an’ believe me, I’ve tried. So ye’ll no doubt excuse me if I say only that I was right proud t’ hear o’ my Sophy’s triumph, an’ don’t try to tell ye how much. Ye may draw yer own conclusions as t’ that.
But I’ll admit: as fond o’ Sophy as I am, I also know full well that she don’t usually “take”, in the way the gentry-folk say; not like that! She ain’t usually pestered wi’ invitations and solicitations an’ the like. Just between you an’ me, I think it’s as much because she don’t put herself forward. She hangs back, an’ lets herself be eclipsed by bolder types—like that Miss Adair.
But anywho, I got curious about this Mr. Stanton. He must be a gentleman o’ rare perception if he caug
