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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"

She had no friend about her now she had
known as long as she had him, and those three months of constant
intimacy placed him above competition. His mind was at ease, and he
felt he could pop with a certainty of success, and pop he would, too,
without any unnecessary delay.
The party arrived in great content and delectation at the gates that
led to the house. "Stay!" said Mrs. Bazalgette; "you must come across
the way, all of you. Here is a view that all our guests are expected
to admire. Those, that cry out 'Charming! beautiful! Oh, I never!' we
take them in and make them comfortable. Those that won't or can't
ejaculate--"
"You put them in damp beds," said Mr. Fountain, only half in jest.
"Worse than that, sir--we flirt with them, and disturb the placid
current of their hearts forever and ever. Don't we, Lucy?"
"You know best, aunt," said Lucy, half malice, half pout. The others
followed the gay lady, and, when the view burst, ejaculated to order.
But Mr. Fountain stood ostentatiously in the middle of the road, with
his legs apart, like him of Rhodes. "I choose the alternative," cried
he. "Sooner than pretend I admire sixteen plowed fields and a hill as
much as I do a lawn and flower-beds, I elect to be flirted, and my
what do ye call 'em?--my stagnant current--turned into a whirlpool."
Ere the laugh had well subsided, caused by this imitation of Hercules
and his choice, he struck up again, "Good news for you, young
gentleman; I smell a ball; here is a fiddle-case making for this
hospitable mansion.


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