"
"Don't I? Eustace, look at me: do I look like a poor clergyman's wife? Do
survey me dispassionately." She holds herself at arm's length from him,
and looks comically up and down the length of her gray skirts. "Think of
the yards and yards of stuff it takes to clothe me; and should not a
woman as tall as I am be always in velvet and point lace, Eustace? What
is the good of condemning myself to workhouse sheeting for the rest of my
days?"
Mr. Daintree looks at her admiringly; he has learnt to love her; this
beautiful southern flower that has come to blossom in his home. Women
will be hard enough on Vera through her life--men, never.
"You have great gifts and great temptations, my child," he says,
solemnly. "I pray that I may be enabled to do my duty to you. Do not say
you do not like good men, Vera, it pains me to hear you say it."
"I like _one_ good man, and his name is Eustace Daintree!" she answers,
softly; "is not that a hopeful sign?"
"You are a little flatterer, Vera," he says, kissing her; but, though he
is a middle-aged clergyman and her brother-in-law, he is by no means
impervious to the flattery.
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