'Who's that pretty young man my Lord Castlemallard is
introducing to her and old Chattesworth?' The commendation was a shot at
poor O'Flaherty.
'Hey--so, my Lord knows him!' says Toole, very much interested. 'Why
that's Mr. Mervyn, that's stopping at the Phoenix. A. Mervyn,--I saw
it on his dressing case. See how she smiles.'
'Ay, she simpers like a firmity kettle,' said scornful Miss Mag.
'They're very grand to-day, the Chattesworths, with them two livery
footmen behind them,' threw in O'Flaherty, accommodating his remarks to
the spirit of his lady-love.
'That young buck's a man of consequence,' Toole rattled on; 'Miss does
not smile on everybody.'
'Ay, she looks as if butter would not melt in her mouth, but I warrant
cheese won't choke her,' Magnolia laughed out with angry eyes.
Magnolia's fat and highly painted parent--poor bragging, good-natured,
cunning, foolish Mrs. Macnamara, the widow--joined, with a venemous
wheeze in the laugh.
Those who suppose that all this rancour was produced by mere feminine
emulations and jealousy do these ladies of the ancient sept Macnamara
foul wrong.
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