He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. He smiled grandly; she could feel the radiance of his approval from across the wedding table. The two girls put on shoes and started walking towards the north side of town. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. ‘I trust you were not altogether disgusted when I kissed you. With one or two exceptions, there were no pews; and, as the intercourse with London was then but slight, the seats were occupied almost exclusively by the villagers. He was manifestly exerting his mind for her, and she found herself fully disposed to justify his interest. Perhaps she was. Every one has to make a deal with the world.
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