There were two or three elderly
pepper-and-salt men, and that Trench cousin, who is a very High Church
curate (you know Aunt Mary told us about him), and there are a Sir
Samuel and Lady Garnons, with an old maid daughter, and Adeline's
German governess, who has stayed on as companion, and helped to pour
out the tea.
[Sidenote: _A Modern Grandison_]
The conversation was subdued; about politics and Cabinet Ministers, and
pheasants and foxes, and things of that kind, and no one said anything
that meant anything else, as they did at Nazeby, or were witty like
they were at Tournelle, and the German governess said "Ach" to
everything, and Lady Garnons and Miss Garnons knitted all the time,
which gave their voices the sound of "one-two-three" when they spoke,
although they did not really count. No one had on tea-gowns--just a
Sunday sort of clothes. I don't know how we should have got through tea
if the coffee-cream cakes had not been so good. The old Earl called me
to him when he had finished, and talked so beautifully to me; he paid
me some such grand old-fashioned compliments, and his voice sounds as
if he had learnt elocution in his youth.
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