Kendal.
Miss Meadows was gaily dressed in youthful fashion, such as evidently
had set her off to advantage when she had been a bright, dark,
handsome girl; but her hair was thin, her cheeks haggard, the colour
hardened, and her forty years apparent, above all, in an
uncomfortable furrow on the brow and round the mouth; her voice had a
sharp distressed tone that grated even in her lowest key, and though
she did not stammer, she could never finish a sentence, but made
half-a-dozen disjointed commencements whenever she spoke. Albinia
pitied her, and thought her nervous, for she was painfully assiduous
in waiting on every one, scarcely sitting down for a minute before
she was sure that pepper, or pickle, or new bread, or stale bread, or
something was wanted, and squeezing round the table to help some one,
or to ring the bell every third minute, and all in a dress that had a
teasing stiff silken rustle. She offered Mr. Kendal everything in
the shape of food, till he purchased peace by submitting to take a
hard biscuit, while Albinia was not allowed her glass of water till
all manner of wines, foreign and domestic, had been tried upon her in
vain.
Conversation was not easy. Gilbert was inquired after, and his aunt
spoke in her shrill, injured note, as she declared that she had done
her utmost to persuade him to have the tooth extracted, and began a
history of what the dentist ought to have done five years ago.
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