The woollen-draper was no despicable trencherman in a general way; but his feats with the knife and fork were child's sport compared with those of Mr. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. He blurted, “I was just telling Lucy that I have finished an important work. And instead he found her playing the great lady, and playing it well. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. I could not become an Oracle.
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