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‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. She felt as if she had struck them unawares. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. She was recalling the circumstances under which she had engaged herself to Manning, and trying to understand a curious development of the quality of this relationship. She still had her letter of credit. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. She was rash and ignorant, absolutely inexperienced.
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