” He asked questions and listened to her views for a time. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Lucy went hunting on a Thursday night. He—wanted to marry me. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. . She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion.
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