The cloud--of awkwardness, or of something else not to be analyzed--broke away, and he began to talk, and presently to ask questions, with readiness, even with eagerness.
Was it right to be so very strict with children ?--babies under three?
Wasn't it ridiculous to expect them not to be naughty or greedy?
Why, every child wanted as much sweetstuff as it could tuck in! Quite right too--doctors said it was good for them.

But Miss Farmer---- "Who is Miss Farmer ?" inquired Mrs.Fairmile.She was riding close beside him--an embodied friendliness--a soft and womanly Chloe, very different from the old.
"She's the nurse; my mother found her.

She's a lady--by way of--she doesn't do any rough work--and I dare say she's the newest thing out.
But she's too tight a hand for my taste.

I say!--what do you think of this! She wouldn't let Beattie come down to the drawing-room yesterday, because she cried for a sweet! Wasn't that _devilish_!" He brought his hand down fiercely on his thigh.
"A Gorgon!" said Mrs.Fairmile, raising her eyebrows.

"Any other qualifications?
French?
German ?" "Not a word.