Which, on the whole,
rather impaired the unity of the action, and the harmony of
the general effect.
"How is your task proceeding?" Mrs. Randolph asked one
evening, when Mrs. Sandford was staying to tea.
"Excellently well. We shall make a good thing, I confidently
expect."
"Hamilton is a good actor," said Preston.
"And Master Gary also," said Mrs. Sandford. "Your old French
wife is perfect, Preston."
"Much obliged, ma'am."
"Not to me. My dressing has nothing to do with that. But
Preston, what shall we do with Frederica's handkerchief? She
can _not_ hold it — right."
"Like a queen —" said Preston. "I do not know — unless we
could scare her out of her propriety. A good fright would do
it, I think. But then the expression would not suit. How is
the Game, Mrs. Sandford?"
"Perfect! admirable! You and Hamilton do it excellently — and
Daisy is a veritable angel."
"How does _she_ like it all?" Mrs. Randolph inquired.
"Aunt Felicia, she is as much engaged as anybody."
"And plays as well," added Mrs. Sandford.
"She has found out to-day, aunt Felicia," Preston went on,
speaking rather low, "that she ought to have a string of red
stones round her head instead of white ones.
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