Let us hope it's one of the fifty-pound curates." "Deep in the old slough ?" "Hopelessly--or Ivy wouldn't be so thick with her." When he had spoken, William turned with an expressive smile.
"Still, who knows?
I rather like the girl.

She has no humbug about her--no pretence, that's to say.

You see how she dresses." "A bad sign, I'm afraid." "Well, no, not in this case, I think.

Her home accounts for it.

That old ass, Mumbray, and his wife make things pretty sour for her, as the Germans say; at least, I guess so." "I don't dislike her appearance--intelligent at bottom, I should imagine." There followed a long silence.