"
"Who!!!"
"Miss Vanstone, sir."
The admiral put down his glass of wine untasted.
"You're right, George," he said. "I do disapprove of your choice
--strongly disapprove of it."
"Is it the misfortune of her birth, sir, that you object to?"
"God forbid! the misfortune of her birth is not her fault, poor thing.
You know as well as I do, George, what I object to."
"You object to her sister?"
"Certainly! The most liberal man alive might object to her sister, I
think."
"It's hard, sir, to make Miss Vanstone suffer for her sister's faults."
"_Faults_, do you call them? You have a mighty convenient memory,
George, when your own interests are concerned."
"Call them crimes if you like, sir--I say again, it's hard on Miss
Vanstone. Miss Vanstone's life is pure of all reproach. From first to
last she has borne her hard lot with such patience, and sweetness, and
courage as not one woman in a thousand would have shown in her place.
Ask Miss Garth, who has known her from childhood. Ask Mrs. Tyrrel, who
blesses the day when she came into the house--"
"Ask a fiddlestick's end! I beg your pardon, George, but you are enough
to try the patience of a saint.
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