Mrs.Proudie saw and understood the smile, and became more angry than ever.

She drew her chair close to the table, and began to fidget with her fingers among the papers.

She had never before encountered a clergyman so contumacious, so indecent, so unreverend,--so upsetting.

She had had to do with men difficult to manage;--the archdeacon for instance; but the archdeacon had never been so impertinent to her as this man.
She had quarrelled once openly with a chaplain of her husband's, a clergyman whom she herself had introduced to her husband, and who had treated her very badly;--but not so badly, not with such unscrupulous violence, as she was now encountering from this ill-clothed beggarly man, this perpetual curate, with his dirty broken boots, this already half-convicted thief! Such was her idea of Mr.Crawley's conduct to her, while she was fingering the papers,--simply because Mr.Crawley would not speak to her.
"I forget where I was," said the bishop.

"Oh.