I
think I understand men.'
'Yes, yes, Caroline, no one better, but we are told to honour our
father and mother.'
'And I do honour him,' Caroline guffawed, 'honour him all the more.'
She had a deep voice and a deep laugh; she ought, she always said, to
have been a man, but there was nothing masculine about her appearance.
Her dark hair, carefully tinted where greyness threatened, was piled
in many puffs above a curly fringe: on the bodice of her flounced silk
frock there hung a heavy golden chain and locket; ear-rings dangled
from her large ears; there were rings on her fingers, and powder and a
hint of rouge on her face.
She laughed again. 'Mrs. Batty knows I'm right.'
Mrs. Batty's tightly gloved hand made a movement. She was a little in
awe of the Miss Malletts. With them she was always conscious of her
inferior descent. No General had ever ornamented her family, and her
marriage with James Batty had been a giddy elevation for her, but she
was by no means humble. She had her place in local society: she had a
fine house in that exclusive part of Radstowe called The Slope, and
her husband was a member of the oldest firm of lawyers in the city.
'You are very naughty, Miss Caroline,' she said, knowing that was the
remark looked for. She gave a little nod of her flower-covered head.
'And we've just got to put up with them, whatever they are.'
'Yes, yes, poor dears,' Sophia murmured. 'They're different, they
can't help it.
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