Sanchia's fancy, uplifted by her
contentment, played with the play, and suggested flights undreamed of for
many a year. She sat by Melusine and her husband, and Mr. Worthington
watched her in the long intervals of his duty. Charming indeed, and most
high-bred: now where did old Welbore Percival, whom he met daily in
Throgmorton Street, fetch up such a strain of blood? His wife, too, Kitty
Blount, as she had been--what had Kitty Blount been but a high-coloured,
bouncing romp of a girl when they had all been paddling together at
Broadstairs? Extraordinary! And now here was one of his girls sister-in-
law of a county baronet--none of your city knights, mind you--and the
other, with the lift of a princess and the clear sight which is hers by
title. Extraordinary!
And there was another thing: where had old Welbore and Kitty Blount kept
her all this time? And why wasn't she married, a girl like that? She came
next to Mrs. Scales, he supposed. Well, but there was another, younger
still, married only the other day--to an army man. He remembered Welbore
chirping about it at a Board meeting. What was that in the Bible--what was
it? Ha!--"But thou hast kept the good wine until now.
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