Finn
was determined that she would be taken out to dinner by a Cabinet
Minister in the face of all her friends. She was aware that had the
bishop been there, she must have taken the bishop's arm. And though
there would have been glory in that, the other glory was more to her
taste. It was the first time in her life that she had ever seen a
Cabinet Minister, and I think that she was a little disappointed at
finding him so like other middle-aged gentlemen. She had hoped that
Mr. Monk would have assumed something of the dignity of his position;
but he assumed nothing. Now the bishop, though he was a very mild
man, did assume something by the very facts of his apron and
knee-breeches.
"I am sure, sir, it is very good of you to come and put up with our
humble way of living," said Mrs. Finn to her guest, as they sat down
at table. And yet she had resolved that she would not make any speech
of the kind,--that she would condescend to no apology,--that she
would bear herself as though a Cabinet Minister dined with her at
least once a year. But when the moment came, she broke down, and made
this apology with almost abject meekness, and then hated herself
because she had done so.
"My dear madam," said Mr. Monk, "I live myself so much like a hermit
that your house is a palace of luxury to me.
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