"I wish she had been living," observed Mr. Carless, with a glance at Mr.
Pawle. "I should have liked to see Mrs. Roscombe. Well," he continued,
turning to Miss Wickham, "so Mrs. Roscombe brought you to England, to
school. What school?"
"Ryedene School."
"Ryedene! That's one of the most expensive schools in England, isn't it?"
"I don't know. I--perhaps it is."
"I happen to know it is," said Mr. Carless dryly. "Two of my clients have
daughters there, now. I've seen their bills! Do you know who paid yours?"
"No," she answered, "I don't know. Mr. Ashton, I suppose."
"You had everything you wanted, I dare say! Clothes, pocket-money,
and so on?"
"I've always had everything I wanted," replied Miss Wickham.
"And you were at Ryedene twelve years?"
"Except for the holidays--yes."
"You must be a very learned young lady," suggested Mr. Carless.
Miss Wickham looked round the circle of attentive faces.
"I can play tennis and hockey very well," she said, smiling a little.
"And I wasn't bad at cricket the last season or two--we played cricket
there. But I'm not up to much at anything else, except that I can talk
French decently.
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