Diane Vorsack clicked her tongue in a “tsk”. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. “You see,” he said, “from my point of view you’re grown up— you’re as old as all the goddesses and the contemporary of any man alive. Winter came at the manor. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. No more scuffling. There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete. “It was a phase,” she said. ‘At this present, I must appropriate Lady Bicknacre. When I am leading a true life, a pure and simple life free of all stimulants and excitements, I think—I think— oh! with pellucid clearness; but if I so much as take a mouthful of meat—or anything—the mirror is all blurred.
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