... Now, come you and pour out a cup of tea for your foolish old
father. We're snug here--hey? Better than Great Cumberland--hey? You
monkey!" He pinched her ear--and felt that they shared a secret.
She caught his happiness, and bathed in his praises, feeling as it were
the sun upon her cheeks. How she loved to be loved! How she loved to be
praised for her good looks! The world had grown suddenly kind again; the
world was good. There, ahead of her, stood Mrs. John Chevenix and a
friendly Lady Maria, beckoning her to London delights, a friendly world of
admiring eyes. She was to be looked at--she was to listen--and be heard.
Her heart beat, eyes shone starry. Life, which had seemed behind her, now
danced before, a gay procession. She told her father what seemed to be in
the wind. He listened and stared.
"Lady Maria, hey! We _are_ going up in the world. The peerage! Charles
Street, Berkeley Square! I remember young Chevenix: he had swell
connections--yes, yes. How things come about. This will please your
mother, my dear. She sets a store by such things." Their eyes met, and she
nodded.
"Yes, I thought of that. But what do _you_ feel about it, Papa? You see--I
couldn't very well come back to Great Cumberland Place.
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