Where's my cabby ?" "Mr.Griffing has drove round to the front of the house, mum," said Mike.
"Just like the stupid American," muttered the old woman as she hurried away, "as if I'd get in at the front of the house." Andy Griffing talked a good deal on the drive back to Thorbury, but La Fleur heard little and answered less.

She was in a state of great mental satisfaction, and during her driver's long descriptions of persons and places, she kept saying to herself, "It couldn't be better than that.

It couldn't be better than that." This mental expression she applied to Mr.Haverley, whom she considered an extraordinarily fine-looking young man; to the broad acres and fine barn; to the fact that the Dranes were living with him; to the probability that he would fall in love with the charming Miss Cicely, and make her mistress of the estate; and to the strong possibility, that should this thing happen, she herself would be the cook of Cobhurst, and help her young mistress put the establishment on the footing that her station demanded.
"It couldn't be better than that," she muttered over and over again as she busied herself about the Tolbridge dinner, and she even repeated the expression two or three times after she went to bed..