Now, if there was one individual in the whole world, of whom the spinster aunt entertained a mortal and deep-rooted jealousy, it was this identical niece. The colour rushed over her face and neck, and she tossed her head in silence with an air of ineffable contempt. At last, biting her thin lips, and bridling up, she said⁠—

“It can’t be. I won’t believe it.”

“Watch ’em,” said Jingle.

“I will,” said the aunt.

“Watch his looks.”

“I will.”

“His whispers.”

“I will.”

“He’ll sit next her at table.”

“Let him.”