Lady Palsworthy was the widow of a knight who had won his spurs in the wholesale coal trade, she was of good seventeenth-century attorney blood, a county family, and distantly related to Aunt Mollie’s deceased curate. He cannot. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago. I've another reason for supposing he'll pay me a visit.
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