The poor soul thinks he sees before him the indignation of the just; when very likely it is only what in a man would be called Petulance.
"Anything the matter, Miss Clifford ?" said he, obsequiously.
"No, sir" (very stiffly).
"Can I be of any service ?" "No, you can not." And then, swifter than any weather-cock ever turned: "You are a good creature: why should I be rude to you?
I ought to be ashamed of myself.

It is that little wretch." "Not our friend Fitzroy ?" "Why, what other little wretch is there about?
We are all Grenadiers and May-poles in this house except him.

Well, let him go.

I dare say somebody else--hum--and Uncle Clifford has told me more than once I ought to look higher.

I couldn't well look lower than five feet nothing.