human
I didn't know you knew the Rothwells so well, uncle.
gpt
My dear, said her uncle,
human
I suppose you might have talked about them.
gpt
I might, said Mr. Hayes.
human
Now you mention it, I might, certainly. But I haven't any especial fancy for the gossip of the last generation.
gpt
Well, I have, said the girl. And after a moment she went on.
human
How long is it since they left the Place?
gpt
Nineteen years last Midsummer.
human
And when did you take it?
gpt
A year later.
human
This Mr. Harding--he is like the Rothwells, then?
gpt
Rothwell from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot. The old people, who knew the family, will find him out as he walks through the village--see if they don't. The same haughty, sulky, sneering way with him, and just the same voice. Only every Rothwell at the Place, even to the last, had an air of being a _grand seigneur_, which this fellow can't very well have. Upon my word, I begin to think it was the pleasantest thing about them. I don't like a pride which is conscious of being homeless and out at elbows.
human
You are talking about the men, she said.
gpt
Is Mr. Harding like his mother?
human
Well, she was a handsome woman, Mr. Hayes replied indifferently,