“No, no; it must be something else if he were really vexed. Ladislaw is a sort of gypsy; he thinks nothing of leather and prunella.”
“Music apart, he is not always very agreeable. Do you like him?”
“Yes: I think he is a good fellow: rather miscellaneous and bric-a-brac, but likable.”
“Do you know, I think he adores Mrs. Casaubon.”
“Poor devil!” said Lydgate, smiling and pinching his wife’s ears.
Rosamond felt herself beginning to know a great deal of the world, especially in discovering what when she was in her unmarried girlhood had been inconceivable to her except as a dim tragedy in by-gone costumes—that women, even after marriage, might make conquests and e*****e men. At that time young ladies in the country, even when educated at Mrs. Lemon’s, read little French literature later
