She saw exactly what was going to happen, and no
reason why she should not declare it. She had formed already a high enough
opinion of Sanchia--which is to say no more than that she liked her--to be
sure that it would not influence her conduct. "I'll tell you what the end
of this will be," she said. "You'll have him on the floor, kissing your
toes. He'll be mad to have you--and you'll marry him. Then he'll be your
slave for life. And they tell me that's the happiest state a woman can
live in. I have some reason for believing it. I and the judge got along
admirably, though the poor man might have bored me to extinction. Oh,
you'll do very well. But don't make him jealous."
Sanchia considered this. "I don't think he would be jealous," she decided;
"but we are rather premature, aren't we?" And then she related, as if they
were an anecdote, the circumstances of her departure from Wanless.
Lady Maria listened carefully, nodding a dispassionate head at details
which would have raised Philippa's hair, and depilated Mrs. Percival. "I
think he's a human being, if you'll allow me to say so," was the
conclusion she came to. "It was no affair of the gardener's that I can
see; and to be battered in your own drive by your own servant, even you
must allow to be provoking.
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