"Yes," she said, quietly, without considering what "kind of thing" was meant--whether the flowers, the scents, the ball in general, or this episode of walking with Mr. Grandcourt in particular. And they returned along the conservatory without farther interpretation. She then proposed to go and sit down in her old place, and they walked among scattered couples preparing for the waltz to the spot where Mrs. Davilow had been seated all the evening. As they approached it her seat was vacant, but she was coming toward it again, and, to Gwendolen's shuddering annoyance, with Mr. Lush at her elbow. There was no avoiding the confrontation: her mamma came close to her before they had reached the seats, and, after a quiet greeting smile, said innocently, "Gwendolen, dear, let me present Mr. Lush to you." Having just made the acquaintance of this personage, as an intimate and constant companion of Mr. Grandcourt's, Mrs. Davilow imagined it altogether desirable that her daughter also should make the acquaintance.
It was hardly a bow that Gwendolen gave--rather, it was the slightest forward sweep of the head away from the physiognomy that inclined itself toward her, and she immediately moved toward her seat, saying, "I want to put on my burnous." No sooner had she reached it, than Mr. Lush was there, and had the burnous in his hand: to annoy this supercilious young lady, he would incur the offense of forestalling Grandcourt; and, holding up the garment close to Gwendolen, he said, "Pray, permit me?" But she, wheeling away from him as if he had been a muddy hound, glided on to the ottoman, saying, "No, thank you."

"Yes," she said, quietly, without considering what "kind of thing" was meant - whether the flowers, the scents, the ball in general, or walking with Mr. Grandcourt in particular. And they returned along the conservatory without farther interpretation.
She proposed to go and sit down in her old place by Mrs. Davilow; but as they approached, she saw, to her shuddering annoyance, that Mr. Lush stood at her mother's elbow. There was no avoiding the confrontation: her mamma said innocently, "Gwendolen, dear, let me present Mr. Lush to you." Having just made the acquaintance of this intimate companion of Mr. Grandcourt's, Mrs. Davilow imagined it altogether desirable that her daughter also should meet him.
It was hardly a bow that Gwendolen gave - rather, it was the slightest sweep of the head away from him. She immediately moved toward her seat, saying, "I want to put on my cloak." No sooner had she reached it, than Mr. Lush was there with the cloak in his hand, willing to risk forestalling Grandcourt for the sake of annoying this supercilious young lady. Holding up the garment, he said, "Pray, permit me?" But she wheeled away, saying, "No, thank you."
