And if you
see him walking or driving, he always has some pretty woman at his
side."
"What by all that? His feet are fit for nothing but dancing. He could
not take thy long swinging steps for a twenty-mile walk; he couldn't
take them for a dozen yards. His hands may be small enough, and white
enough, and ringed enough for a lady, but he can't make a penny's worth
with them. I've heard it said that if he goes to stay all night with a
friend he has to take his valet with him--can't dress himself, I
suppose."
"He is always dressed with the utmost nicety and in the tip-top of the
fashion."
"I'll warrant him. Jane told me he wore a lace cravat at the Priestly
ball, and I have no doubt that his pocket handkerchief was edged with
lace. And yet she said, 'No woman there laughed at him.'"
"At any rate he has fine eyes and hair and a pleasant face."
"I wouldn't bother myself to deny it. If anyone fancies curly hair and
big brown eyes and white cheeks and no chin to speak of and no feet fit
to walk with and no hands to work with, it isn't Martha Hatton and it
isn't Jane Harlow, I can take my affidavit on that," and the confident
smile which accompanied these words was better than any sworn oath to
John Hatton.
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