"Your sock is sopping. No, you don't!" She twitched the tongs
away from him. Mrs. Aberdeen, without speaking, fetched a pair of
Rickie's socks and a pair of Rickie's shoes.

"Thank you; ah, thank you. I am sure Mr. Elliot would allow it."

Then he said in French to his sister, "Has there been the
slightest sign of Frederick?"

"Now, do call him Rickie, and talk English. I found him here. He
had forgotten about us, and was very sorry. Now he's gone to get
some dinner, and I can't think why he isn't back."

Mrs. Aberdeen left them.

"He wants pulling up sharply. There is nothing original in
absent-mindedness. True originality lies elsewhere. Really, the
lower classes have no nous. However can I wear such
deformities?" For he had been madly trying to cram a right-hand
foot into a left-hand shoe.

"Don't!" said Agnes hastily. "Don't touch the poor fellow's
things." The sight of the smart, stubby patent leather made her
almost feel faint. She had known Rickie for many years, but it
seemed so dreadful and so different now that he was a man. It was
her first great contact with the abnormal, and unknown fibres of
her being rose in revolt against it. She frowned when she heard
his uneven tread upon the stairs.