'Have you talked it over with her?' said Mr. Ferrars, as his little slender wife met him under the beeches that made an avenue of the lane leading to Fairmead vicarage.
'Yes!' was the answer, which the vicar was not slow to understand.
'I cannot say I expected much from your conversation, and perhaps we ought not to wish it. We are likely to see with selfish eyes, for what shall we do without her?'
'Dear Albinia! You always taunted me with having married your sister as much as yourself.'
'So I shall again, if you cannot give her up with a good grace.'
'If I could have had my own way in disposing of her.'