"By the way, Beatrice, what was it I wanted to say?
Ah, I know--have you written, I mean written out, that sermon for next Sunday?
My daughter," he added, addressing Geoffrey in explanation--"um, copies my sermons for me.

She writes a very good hand----" Remembering Beatrice's confidence as to her sermon manufacturing functions, Geoffrey felt amused at her father's _naive_ way of describing them, and Beatrice also smiled faintly as she answered that the sermon was ready.

Just then the roll of wheels was heard without, and the only fly that Bryngelly could boast pulled up in front of the door.
"Here is the fly come for you, Mr.Bingham," said Mr.Granger--"and as I live, her ladyship with it.

Elizabeth, see if there isn't some tea ready," and the old gentleman, who had all the traditional love of the lower middle-class Englishman for a title, trotted off to welcome "her ladyship." Presently Lady Honoria entered the room, a sweet, if rather a set smile upon her handsome face, and with a graceful mien, that became her tall figure exceedingly well.

For to do Lady Honoria justice, she was one of the most ladylike women in the country, and so far as her personal appearance went, a very perfect type of the class to which she belonged.
Geoffrey looked at her, saying to himself that she had clearly recovered her temper, and that he was thankful for it.