But for a whole week he took no measures toward starting, and did not even inquire where Miss Harleth was gone. Mr. Lush felt a triumph that was mingled with much distrust; for Grandcourt had said no word to him about her, and looked as neutral as an alligator; there was no telling what might turn up in the slowly-churning chances of his mind.
We are made to read these things too young and too quickly; the writing of Elliot and Austen is extraordinary when slowed down to a genteel pace, though one may yet require laudanum to parallel the languid prose of Proust...