There's the distinguished Mr.Tatham, who attends to the transportation of the cities of Warehold and Barnegat; and the Right Honorable Mr.Tipple, and Mrs.and Miss Gossaway, renowned for their toilets--" Mrs.Cavendish bit her lip.

When her son was in one of these moods it was all she could do to keep her temper.
"And the wonderful Mrs.Malmsley, and--" Mrs.Cavendish looked up.

The name had an aristocratic sound, but it was unknown to her.
"Who is she ?" "Why, don't you know the wonderful Mrs.Malmsley ?" inquired the doctor, with a quizzical smile.
"No, I never heard of her." "Well, she's just moved into Warehold.

Poor woman, she hasn't been out of bed for years! She's the wife of the new butcher, and--" "The butcher's wife ?" "The butcher's wife, my dear mother, a most delightful old person, who has brought up three sons, and each one a credit to her." Mrs.Cavendish let go her hold on the doctor's sleeve and settled back in her chair.
"And you won't even write to Dr.Pencoyd ?" she asked in a disheartened way, as if she knew he would refuse.
"Oh, with pleasure, and thank him most kindly, but I couldn't leave Barnegat; not now.

Not at any time, so far as I can see." "And I suppose when Jane Cobden comes home in a year or so she will work with you in the hospital.