Lady Brocklehurst pooh-poohed the whole
affair!
LORD BROCKLEHURST. She said, 'Mary and I will have a good laugh over
this.'
LADY MARY (outraged). George, your mother is a hateful, depraved old
woman.
LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mary!
LADY MARY (turning away). Laugh indeed, when it will always be such
a pain to me.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (with strange humility). If only you would let me
bear all the pain, Mary.
LADY MARY (who is taken aback). George, I think you are the noblest
man--
(She is touched, and gives him both her hands. Unfortunately he
simpers.)
LORD BROCKLEHURST. She was a pretty little thing. (She stares, but
he marches to his doom.) Ah, not beautiful like you. I assure you it
was the merest flirtation; there were a few letters, but we have got
them back. It was all owing to the boat being so late at Calais. You
see she had such large, helpless eyes.
LADY MARY (fixing him). George, when you lunched with father to-day
at the club--
LORD BROCKLEHURST.
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