I can't make out whether she wants to marry him or not

"I can't make out whether she wants to marry him or not."
Mrs. Gregory answered. "That is just what she is coming to see for herself."
"But since her love was for his phosphates only--!" was my natural exclamation.
It caused (and this time I did not expect it) my inveterate ladies to consult each other's expressions. They prolonged their silence so much that I spoke again:--
"And backing out of this sort of thing can be done, I should think, quite as cleverly, and much more simply, from a distance."
It was Mrs. Weguelin who answered now, or,http://www.louisvuitton360.com/, rather, who headed me off. "Have you been able to make out whether he wants to marry her or not?"
"Oh, he never comes near any of that with me!"
"Certainly not. But we all understand that he has taken a fancy to you, and that you have talked much with him."
So they all understood this, did they,UGG Clerance? This, too, had played its little special part in the buzz? Very well, then, nothing of my private impressions should drop from my lips here, to be quoted and misquoted and battledored and shuttlecocked, until it reached the boy himself (as it would inevitably) in fantastic disarrangement. I laughed. "Oh, yes! I have talked much with him. Shakespeare, I think, was our latest subject,nike shox torch ii."
Mrs. Weguelin was plainly watching for something to drop. "Shakespeare!" Her tone was of surprise.
I then indulged myself in that most delightful sort of impertinence, which consists in the other person's not seeing it. "You wouldn't be likely to have heard of that yet. It occurred only before dinner to-day. But we have also talked optimism, pessimism, sociology, evolution--Mr. Mayrant would soon become quite--" I stopped myself on the edge of something very clumsy.
But sharp Mrs. Gregory finished for me. "Yes, you mean that if he didn't live in Kings Port (where we still have reverence, at any rate), he fit would imbibe all the shallow quackeries of the hour and resemble all the clever young donkeys of the minute."
"Maria!" Mrs. Weguelin murmurously expostulated.
Mrs. Gregory immediately made me a handsome but equivocal apology. "I wasn't thinking of you at all!" she declared gayly; and it set me doubting if perhaps she hadn't, after all, comprehended my impertinence. "And, thank Heaven!" she continued, "John is one of us, in spite of his present stubborn course."
But Mrs,replica mont blanc pens. Weguelin's beautiful eyes were resting upon me with that disapproval I had come to know. To her, sociology and evolution and all "isms" were new-fangled inventions and murky with offense; to touch them was defilement, and in disclosing them to John Mayrant I was a corrupter of youth. She gathered it all up into a word that was radiant with a kind of lovely maternal gentleness:--
"We should not wish John to become radical."
In her voice, the whole of old Kings Port was enshrined: hereditary faith and hereditary standards, mellow with the adherence of generations past, and solicitous for the boy of the young generation. I saw her eyes soften at the thought of him; and throughout the rest of our talk to its end her gaze would now and then return to me, shadowed with disapproval.