You'd make a splendid companion
for an old woman like me: young, good to look at, energetic (or you
wouldn't be travelling about alone), brave (conquered your fear of
Beau), accomplished (three languages, and goodness knows what besides!),
presence of mind (the way you whisked my clothes off), handy (I never
tasted better tea)--altogether you sum up ideally. What a pity you're
rich, and out of the market!"
"If I look rich my appearance must be more distinguished than I
supposed--and it's also very deceiving," said I.
"You're rich enough to travel for pleasure in _wagon-lits_, and have
silver-fitted bags."
"I'm not travelling for pleasure. You exaggerate my bags and my
_wagon-lits_, for I've only one of each; and both were given me by a
friend who was at the Convent with me."
"The Convent! Good heavens! are you an escaping nun?"
I laughed. "I went to school at a Convent. That was when I thought I
_was_ going to be rich--at least, rich enough to be like other girls.
And if I _am_ 'escaping' from something, it isn't from the arms of
religion."
"If you're not rich, and aren't going to relatives, why not take an
engagement with me? Come, I'm in earnest.
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