Her
mother's friends wore soft felt hats and limp woollen collars; these
real men were richly clad in tweed suits and fine linen. Dolly was
charmed with them all, but especially with one handsome and manly
young fellow named Walter Brydges, the stepson and ward of a
neighboring parson. "How you talked with him at tennis to-day!"
Winnie Compson said to her friend, as they sat on the edge of
Dolly's bed one evening. "He seemed quite taken with you."
A pink spot of pleasure glowed on Dolly's round cheek to think that
a real young man, in good society, whom she met at so grand a house
as the Compsons', should seem to be quite taken with her.
"Who is he, Winnie?" she asked, trying to look less self-conscious.
"He's extremely good-looking."
"Oh, he's Mr. Hawkshaw's stepson, over at Combe Mary," Winnie
answered with a nod. "Mr. Hawkshaw's the vicar there till Mamma's
nephew is ready to take the living--what they call a warming-pan.
But Walter Brydges is Mrs. Hawkshaw's son by her first husband.
Old Mr. Brydges was the squire of Combe Mary, and Walter's his only
child.
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