Мидлмарч

Chapter 11

           CasaubonvisitingtheGrange;andthoughtheroomwasalittleoverheatedwiththefire,whichhadsentthespanielpantingtoaremotecorner,Rosamond,forsomereason,continuedtositatherembroiderylongerthanusual,nowandthengivingherselfalittleshake,andlayingherworkonherkneetocontemplateitwithanairofhesitatingweariness.Hermamma,whohadreturnedfromanexcursiontothekitchen,satontheothersideofthesmallwork-tablewithanairofmoreentireplacidity,until,theclockagaingivingnoticethatitwasgoingtostrike,shelookedupfromthelace-mendingwhichwasoccupyingherplumpfingersandrangthebell.

           "KnockatMr.Fred’sdooragain,Pritchard,andtellhimithasstruckhalf-pastten."

           Thiswassaidwithoutanychangeintheradiantgood-humorofMrs.Vincy’sface,inwhichforty-fiveyearshaddelvedneitheranglesnorparallels;andpushingbackherpinkcapstrings,sheletherworkrestonherlap,whileshelookedadmiringlyatherdaughter.

           "Mamma,"saidRosamond,"whenFredcomesdownIwishyouwouldnotlethimhaveredherrings.Icannotbearthesmellofthemalloverthehouseatthishourofthemorning."

           "Oh,mydear,youaresohardonyourbrothers!ItistheonlyfaultIhavetofindwithyou.Youarethesweetesttemperintheworld,butyouaresotetchywithyourbrothers."

           "Nottetchy,mamma:youneverhearmespeakinanunladylikeway.

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