Sponge's extended arms. Hurrying up into the boudoir, Lucy gave her
ladyship one of Mr. Sponge's modified kisses, revealing the truth more
eloquently than words could convey.
'Oh,' Lady Scattercash was '_so_ glad!' '_so_ delighted!' '_so_ charmed!'
Mr. Sponge was _such_ a _nice_ man, and _so rich_. She was sure he was
rich--couldn't hunt if he wasn't. Would advise Lucy to have a good
settlement, in case he broke his neck. And pin-money! pin-money was most
useful! no husband ever let his wife have enough money. Must forget all
about Harry Dacre and Charley Brown, and the swell in the Blues. Must be
prudent for the future. Mr. Sponge would never know anything of the past.
Then she reverted to the interesting subject of settlements. 'What had Mr.
Sponge got, and what would he do?' This Lucy couldn't tell. 'What! hadn't
he told her where is estates were?--'No.' 'Well, was his dad dead?' This
Lucy didn't know either. They had got no further than the tender prop. 'Ah!
well; would get it all out of him by degrees.' And with the reiteration of
her 'so glads,' and the repayment of the kiss Lucy had advanced, her
ladyship advised her to get off her habit and make herself comfortable
while she ran downstairs to communicate the astonishing intelligence to the
party below.
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