"She's hardly a woman yet."
"But she knows as much. Well, you've got your bargain. Make your best of
it. What about her clothes? She's but a rag-bag though it's no fault o'
mine. Pray who's going to buy her gowns, her hats, her petticoats, her
laces and frills. You?"
"I? Bless me! no, woman. I know nothing about such things," rejoined Gay
colouring slightly. "I will send a woman who understands the business."
"It's all one to me. Maybe you'd better tell your tale to Lavinia with
your own lips. I've done with her."
"By all means. I should like to see her."
Mrs. Fenton, whose eyes all the while had been gloating over the gold on
the table now swept it into her pocket. It was a windfall which had come
at the right moment. She was tired of Bedfordbury. She aimed at a step
higher. There was a coffee house business in the Old Bailey going cheap,
the twenty pounds would enable her to buy it.
As for her daughter, she had no scruple about letting her go with a man
who was quite a stranger. The girl's future didn't trouble her. Since
Lavinia had entered her teens, mother and daughter had wrangled
incessantly. Lavinia was amiable enough, but constant snubbing had
roused a spirit which guided her according to her moods. Sometimes she
was full of defiance, at others she would run out of the house, and
ramble about the streets until she was dead tired.
Lavinia was shrewd enough to discover why her mother did not want her at
home.
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