There are the
regulation rocks by the sea; and the big hotels on the
beach about a mile off, flaring away with electric lights
and roman-candles at night. We didn't have them at Nahant."
"No," said his mother. "Is Mrs. Lapham well? And
her daughter?"
"Yes, I think so," said the young man. "The young ladies
walked me down to the rocks in the usual way after dinner,
and then I came back and talked paint with Mr. Lapham
till midnight. We didn't settle anything till this
morning coming up on the boat."
"What sort of people do they seem to be at home?"
"What sort? Well, I don't know that I noticed." Mrs. Corey
permitted herself the first part of a sigh of relief;
and her son laughed, but apparently not at her.
"They're just reading Middlemarch. They say there's so much
talk about it. Oh, I suppose they're very good people.
They seemed to be on very good terms with each other."
"I suppose it's the plain sister who's reading Middlemarch."
"Plain? Is she plain?" asked the young man, as if
searching his consciousness. "Yes, it's the older one
who does the reading, apparently. But I don't believe
that even she overdoes it. They like to talk better.
They reminded me of Southern people in that." The young
man smiled, as if amused by some of his impressions
of the Lapham family. "The living, as the country
people call it, is tremendously good.
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