“Towards⁠—shall I?⁠—Georgiana.” Mr. Lammle uttered the name, with a delicate curve of his right hand, from his lips outward. “For never have I known Sophronia (who is not apt to take sudden likings) so attracted and so captivated as she is by⁠—shall I once more?⁠—Georgiana.”

The object of this homage sat uneasily enough in receipt of it, and then said, turning to Mrs. Lammle, much embarrassed:

“I wonder what you like me for! I am sure I can’t think.”

“Dearest Georgiana, for yourself. For your difference from all around you.”

“Well! That may be. For I think I like you for your difference from all around me,” said Georgiana with a smile of relief.