Leonard Monckton, who had long been hanging about, waiting to catch
her alone, met her returning from Walter Clifford, and took off his hat
very respectfully to her, and said:
"Miss Bartley, I think."
Mary lifted her eyes, and saw an elderly man with a pale face and dark
eyebrows and a cast of countenance quite unlike that of any of her
friends. His face repelled her directly, and she said, very coldly:
"Yes, sir; but I have not the pleasure of knowing you."
And she quietly passed on.
Monckton affected not to see that she was declining to communicate with
him. He walked on quietly, and said:
"And I have not seen you since you were a child, but I had the honor of
knowing your mother."
"You knew my mother, sir?"
"Knew her and respected her."
"What was she like, sir?"
"She was tall and rather dark, not like you."
"So I have heard," said Mary. "Well, sir," said she, for his voice was
ingratiating, and had modified the effect of his criminal countenance,
"as you knew my mother, you are welcome to me.
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