It all seemed very
simple to him. The handsome Philippa respected him, obeyed him
particularly, and never differed from him in opinion. But she coloured
every compliance with his decrees with an idiosyncrasy so marked as to
make them seem her own. Where he held that Rome pandered to the emotions,
she laughed it to scorn as a forcing--house of spiritual foppery; where he
saw in divorce a treason to the law of contract, she said that it tempted
women to fall. Is it not easy enough to sin? Must we legalise it? Why put
a tax upon marriage? Mr. Tompsett-King deprecated all dottings of iotas;
when Philippa stormed at society he hummed a sad little tune. Before he
left for Bedford Row he patted her shoulder and said, "Gently does it."
Some such scene must ensue upon the prodigal's letter.
Hawise, Lady Pinwell, next in age to Philippa, lived in the country. Her
husband was a baronet, and a handsome blond. A pretty, apple-cheeked,
round-eyed girl, very much of a kitten, she was now grown plump, sleek,
rather slow to move, and many times a mother. She deferred to her husband
in all things, and by his wish received her parents on a formal visit once
a year. She saw very little of her sisters, and as for Sanchia--the thing
was not to be heard of, not even mentioned to Sir George.
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