"It has been a stupid evening: they are stupid people," she began.
"Who? Mrs. Cholmondeley? I thought you always found her house charming."
"I have not been to Mrs. Cholmondeley's."
"Indeed! Have you made new acquaintance?"
"My uncle de Bassompierre is come."
"Your uncle de Bassompierre! Are you not glad?—I thought he was a favourite."
"You thought wrong: the man is odious; I hate him."
"Because he is a foreigner? or for what other reason of equal weight?"
"He is not a foreigner. The man is English enough, goodness knows; and had an English name till three or four years ago; but his mother was a foreigner, a de Bassompierre, and some of her family are dead and have left him estates, a title, and this name: he is quite a great man now."
"Do you hate him for that reason?"
"Don't I know what mama says about him? He is not my own uncle, but married mama's sister. Mama detests him; she says he killed aunt Ginevra with unkindness: he looks like a bear. Such a dismal evening!" she went on. "I'll go no more
