’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. Martha was quite right. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. But sadly, at Lullingstone we are too far off the coast to be of use. "Enough!" cried Jonathan, eagerly pocketing the memorandum.
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