It’s bad enough that Timothy’s mooning over her like a schoolboy, wet behind the ears. Surely the marquis hasn’t fallen in love with her as well.
I suppose you looked at the possibility that she went - wherever she did go - not of her own free will? Marks showed his spines. Look here, boy, I wasn’t wet behind the ears then and I’m not now!
I was, to put it mildly, wet behind the ears, politically. In my first year in a London art school my two major preoccupations were whether you really could see William Turner’s late canvases as a precursor to French Impressionism.