They were killing her
niece; things couldn't go on as they were doing. As a matter of fact,
Fontan had turned Mme Lerat out of doors and had declared that he would
not have her at his house in the future, and ever since that day, when
he returned home and she happened to be there, she had to make
off through the kitchen, which was a horrible humiliation to her.
Accordingly she never ceased inveighing against that brutal individual.
She especially blamed his ill breeding, pursing up her lips, as she
did so, like a highly respectable lady whom nobody could possibly
remonstrate with on the subject of good manners.
"Oh, you notice it at once," she used to tell Nana; "he hasn't the
barest notion of the very smallest proprieties. His mother must have
been common! Don't deny it--the thing's obvious! I don't speak on my
own account, though a person of my years has a right to respectful
treatment, but YOU--how do YOU manage to put up with his bad manners?
For though I don't want to flatter myself, I've always taught you how
to behave, and among our own people you always enjoyed the best possible
advice. We were all very well bred in our family, weren't we now?"
Nana used never to protest but would listen with bowed head.
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