Ennison started and looked anxiously at Anna. She seemed to be making some sort of inventory. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. She kicked him in the shin, trying to knock him off his feet. I’m turning into a big fat cow. Anna, do you not see that the Countess is sitting alone?” She rose, and flashed a quick smile upon Ennison behind her husband’s back. She shook her head. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. “It would have been rash and unwise,” she said at the end of a meditation.
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