You never saw two people so
taken aback. They simply jumped away from one another. Mr. Trench got
crimson up to his white eyelashes, and coughed in a nervous way, while
poor Miss Garnons at once talked nineteen to the dozen about the
"darling little owlies," and never let go my arm until she had got me
aside, when she at once began explaining that she hoped I would not
misinterpret anything I had seen; that of course it might look odd to
one who did not understand the higher life, but there were mysteries
connected with her religion, and she hoped I would say nothing about
it. I said she need not worry herself. She is quite twenty-eight, you
know, Mamma, so I suppose she knows best; but I should hate a religion
that obliged me to kiss White Ferret curates in a parrot-house,
shouldn't you?
Lady Carriston detests Mr. Trench, but as he is a cousin she has to be
fairly civil to him, and they always get on to ecclesiastical subjects
and argue when they speak; it is the greatest fun to hear them. They
walked on ahead and left me with Miss Garnons until we got back to the
hall.
By this time the guns had all started, so we saw no more of them.
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