“Surely not?” she queried, “I have very sharp teeth.”
“Then lie on your back,” I instructed. “Ohhhhh!” Miss Harcourt stormed and stamped her dainty foot, “I should rather die!”
“What’s going on?” a confused female voice enquired and a barely attired buxom wench appeared from the back room, barefoot, her cream shift soiled and creased and torn and so thin that her teats were clearly to be seen through it. I left her to her day dreams, if she was determined to return to debauchery then so be it, I understood father had taken her in hand and provided her with rooms for his pleasure and indeed I should have continued the arrangement had funds permitted, but the best I could in all reasonableness offer her was a post as a maid, though I did let the thought of marriage slip into my consciousness it would never do, I had in all consciousness to marry well that my wife’s dowry might save the estate, so a post with Madame L’oiseaux was the best I could offer indeed even arranging a post there would entail all the persuasion I could apply.
