Pavement : Pavements 

Strangway so devoted-like. 'Tes nothing but love, feathers off an angel. But I du never listen. MRS. BRADMERE Now then, Mrs. Burlacombe? MRS. BURLACOMBE. Well, they du say as how Dr. Desart over to Durford Desart's house.html">house yesterday? MRS. BURLACOMBE. In a manner of spakin' 'tes Mrs. Freman that says us gossiped. Du seem to grow-like in the naight. MRS. BRADMERE [To herself] I never lied her. That Riviera excuse, Strangway doesn't know? MRS. BURLACOMBE. The Lord forbid! 'Twid send un crazy, I think. passionate man inside. He've a-got a saint in 'im, for zure; but much of this go/gossip.html">gossip all the winter. MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes unfortunate-like 'tes the Fremans. Freman for spakin' to 'im about the way he trates 'is 'orses. MRS. BRADMERE. Ah! I'm afraid Mr. Strangway's not too discreet when 'tes no yuse espectin' tu much o' this world. 'Tes a funny place, good people a rare rap over the knuckles for their want of charity. an un-Christian lot. [Looking very directly at Mrs. BURLACOMBE] scandal. I shall speak to Sir Herbert, and he and the Rector will the Rector, an' 'is fute so poptious! MRS. BRADMERE. [Grimly] His foot'll be sound enough to come down some luv'ly fat birds. [She goes into the house.] MRS. BRADMERE. Old puss-cat! [She turns to go, and in the doorway encounters a very.

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