Our darling Becky's first flight was not very far. She perched upon the French coast at Boulogne, that refuge of so much exiled English innocence, and there lived in rather a genteel, widowed manner, with a femme de chambre and a couple of rooms, at an hotel. She dined at the table d'hote, where people thought her very pleasant, and where she entertained her neighbours by stories of her brother, Sir Pitt, and her great London acquaintance, talking that easy, fashionable slip-slop which has so much effect upon certain folks of small breeding. She passed with many of them for a person of importance; she gave little tea-parties in her private room and shared in the innocent amusements of the place in sea-bathing, and in jaunts in open carriages, in strolls on the sands, and in visits to the play. Mrs. Burjoice, the printer's lady, who was boarding with her family at the hotel for the summer, and to whom her Burjoice came of a Saturday and Sunday, voted her charming, until that little rogue of a Burjoice began to pay her too much attention. But there was nothing in the story, only that Becky was always affable, easy, and good-natured--and with men especially.
Numbers of people were going abroad as usual at the end of the season, and Becky had plenty of opportunities of finding out by the behaviour of her acquaintances of the great London world the opinion of "society" as regarded her conduct. One day it was Lady Partlet and her daughters whom Becky confronted as she was walking modestly on Boulogne pier, the cliffs of Albion shining in the distance across the deep blue sea. Lady Partlet marshalled all her daughters round her with a sweep of her parasol and retreated from the pier, darting savage glances at poor little Becky who stood alone there.

Our darling Becky's first flight was not very far. She perched upon the French coast at Boulogne, and there lived in rather a genteel, widowed manner, with a maid and a couple of rooms at an hotel. She entertained her neighbours with stories of her brother, Sir Pitt, and her great London acquaintance, talking that easy, fashionable slip-slop which so impresses certain folks of small breeding. She passed with them for a person of importance; she gave little tea-parties, and shared in the innocent amusements of sea-bathing, jaunts in open carriages, strolls on the sands, and visits to the play. She was always affable, easy, and good-natured - with men especially.
From people coming abroad at the end of the London season, Becky learnt the opinion of London society about her conduct. One day she met Lady Partlet and her daughters as she was walking on Boulogne pier. Lady Partlet marshalled all her daughters round her with a sweep of her parasol and retreated, darting savage glances at poor little Becky.
