"The grief of spirit which that bad man caused me nearly broke my heart, and all the while, you know, he was courting--" and then Mrs.Proudie whispered a name.
"What, the dean's wife!" shouted Miss Dunstable, in a voice which made the coachman of the next carriage give a chuck to his horses as he overheard her.
"The archdeacon's sister-in-law!" screamed Mrs.Harold Smith.
"What might he not have attempted next ?" said Miss Dunstable.
"She wasn't the dean's wife then, you know," said Mrs.Proudie, explaining.
"Well, you've a gay set in the chapter, I must say," said Miss Dunstable.

"You ought to make one of them in Barchester, Mr.
Robarts." "Only perhaps Mrs.Robarts might not like it," said Mrs.Harold Smith.
"And then the schemes which he tried on with the bishop!" said Mrs.
Proudie.
"It's all fair in love and war, you know," said Miss Dunstable.
"But he little knew whom he had to deal with when he began that," said Mrs.Proudie.
"The bishop was too many for him," suggested Mrs.Harold Smith, very maliciously.
"If the bishop was not, somebody else was; and he was obliged to leave Barchester in utter disgrace.

He has since married the wife of some tallow-chandler." "The wife!" said Miss Dunstable.

"What a man!" "Widow, I mean; but it's all one to him." "The gentleman was clearly born when Venus was in the ascendant," said Mrs.Smith.

"You clergymen usually are, I believe, Mr.Robarts." So that Mrs.Proudie's carriage was by no means the dullest as they drove into Barchester that day; and by degrees our friend Mark became accustomed to his companions, and before they reached the palace he acknowledged to himself that Miss Dunstable was very good fun.