He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. We've made a pretty penny by him—sixty guineas this blessed day. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. Everyone has gone away again, so that I can do so all alone. A small brickbat was thrown, which struck Jonathan in the face. The proposal is so far from being exorbitant, that it should be trebled if I had not a fellow-feeling in the cause. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 03-10-2024 03:20:30