'Equivocal! Goodness preserve me! I am known in Bath to be the very Pink of Propriety.'
'You run the chance of becoming only the Picotee of Propriety――that I take to be a dappled pink――if you take under your patronage a girl of whom you know nothing, and who may turn out to be――――'
'My dear, not a word. All will be right if we can cut off this woman. I do not allow what you suspect; but I can quite see that there is mischief in that woman, and that we must draw a line between her and Winefred that shall absolutely sever them for ever, in the interests of Morality.'
To Mr. Holwood it afforded pleasure to be able to walk in Pulteney Street with a fresh, pretty daughter on his arm.
For the first time for many years the old buck held up his head and strutted proudly. He had the handle of his rattan to his mouth. His white beaver hat sat jauntily on his head, a little on one side, and his gold-framed glass was in his eye.
He thoroughly enjoyed the looks of admiration wherewith his daughter was greeted. Well dressed she now was. Her costume was no longer of country make; but what man gives a thought to the dress when the frame it encloses is graceful and the face within the bonnet is charming?
Mr. Holwood saluted with consequence when an acquaintance passed in a carriage, as one who was conferring the favour of recognition in place of receiving it. An occasional walker caught his eye and bowed, then, seeing the young lady on his arm, drew to him and asked, 'Introduce me, Mr. Holwood.'
The father chuckled with delight, and his frilled shirt-front seemed to rise like the crest of a turkey-cock.
Winefred and her father had not been gone many minutes from the house before the house-door bell was again rung, this time with no accompanying rap.
The maid soon after came to announce that a young man from near Axmouth was below, waiting, and had brought a hamper for Mrs. Tomkin-Jones from Mrs. Jose of Bindon.
'We cannot receive him in the drawing-room,' said the widow. 'Jane, show him into the dining apartment.' Then to her daughter: 'I suppose I must give him a shilling. Have you any change, Sylvana?'
'Well, bring it to me below. I must thank him for his trouble and inquire after Mrs. Jose, and offer him a glass of ale.'