” “What did you say?” “I said, ‘My dear Veronica! how can you think of such things?’” “And then?” “She had two more cups of tea and some cake, and told me of her walk. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. I offer you my assistance on certain terms.
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