ABSTRACT
‘Good heavens,’ cried the lovely Lady Torrendale, as her woman was putting the last finish to her dress for a dinner party in the country, ‘how long is this life to last? I have tried it but a fortnight, and I am already completely sick of it. If my Lord Torrendale finds it necessary to spend some time at his Derbyshire estate, why cannot he leave me at Bath, or at Rose-villa – One could pass an Autumn so pleasantly at Rose-villa – Or if he must insist on my accompanying him here, why not suffer me at / least to fill the house with decent people from the land of the living? If Strathallan were returned ’twould make some difference – But to carry me down to a desert with no other companions than my little, unformed girl, and her sickening, sentimental governess – Really my dear Floss,’ she continued, caressing a little silken haired spaniel that lay at her feet, ‘as I am now situated, you are, I think, the only rational creature I have seen this some time past.’
