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114 Lady Penrhyn made no reply, and soon afterwards asked "What o'clock is it?" in the most indifferent tone of voice in the world. "We shall get home in time to dress for dinner," was her husband's not very direct reply, though it indicated the tone of his thoughts. Lord Penrhyn never could bear to wait for his dinner. It was ready to be served the instant of their arrival; yet, rapid as were the proceedings of the well-trained cook and butler, Lady Penrhyn was equally rapid with her toilette; neither soup nor fish grew cool from her delay. It was really quite pleasant to see a wife so attentive to her husband as was Lady Penrhyn, during the progress of the repast. "I cannot allow you to try yonder temptation," said she, removing, with a pretty assumption of authority, a dish which she knew he disliked; "but I must recommend these fillets to your left—they are perfect." Little conversation took place during dinner—the process was too important to be interrupted by frivolous discourse—but, as the dessert came in, her ladyship began to narrate, and very amusingly, one or two anecdotes of the day. Gradually, as his lordship approached the pleasant repose of his third glass of port, her voice ceased; he looked up to discover the cause of her unusual silence, and found that his wife's face was buried in the depths of a cambric pocket-handkerchief. She was crying. Lord Penrhyn had the