The Hardens had always been patronizing; his mother and sister were the most superbly patronizing women he knew.

And Rickman might or might not be a great man, but Lucia, even at three and twenty, was a great lady in her way.

Why shouldn't she patronize him, if she liked?
And he smiled again more irritatingly than ever.

Nobody could be more irritating than this Oxford don when he gave his mind to it.
"Lucy--if you only knew him, I don't think you'd suggest my bringing him down here." He was smiling still, while his imagination dallied with the monstrous vision.
"I wouldn't have suggested it," she said coldly, "if I hadn't thought you'd like it." Horace felt a little ashamed of himself.

He knew he had only to think about Lucia in her presence to change the colour on her cheeks, and his last thought had left a stain there like the mark of a blow.