She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. The beautiful gowns and the flashing bare shoulders and arms of the women had disturbed and distressed her. “It was fine and brave of you. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. So he resolved to try another tack. E. Once inside, he looked around, worried that his parents would suddenly cancel their trip and return home.
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