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 my word for it; I don't mind her not being ladylike in manner, nor indeed in look, which to my thinking she is not, but I hate her pretences."

"Pretentions, ma'am, you mean."

"No, I don't, Charles, I know what pretentions are, we all have them; I mean pretences. Her helplessness, her ignorance, her nerves are all pretence, and before you have any dealings with that family in money matters—speculations I think you call them—I would advise you to know a little more of their history."

Willis was rather appalled at this. He had a great opinion of Mrs. Hopkinson's stirling sense, and he had an instinctive idea that her advice was good, but it came too late. He had already, to some extent, embroiled himself in the Baron's schemes, and was on the point of embarking in a larger joint speculation. That he might avoid, and he determined to take his mother-in-law's counsel, though of course, with a murmur at her for offering it.