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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"

A piece of paper, and a few lines traced by the hand that
reads like a face, and the two sad hearts exult and embrace one
another afresh, in spite of a hemisphere of dirt and salt water, that
parts bodies but not minds. But to be close, yet kept aloof by red-hot
iron and chilling ice, by rivals, by etiquette and cold
indifference--to be near, yet far--this is to be apart--this, this is
separation.
A gush of rage and bitterness foreign to his natural temper came over
Mr. Dodd. "Since I can't have the girl I love, I will have nobody but
my own thoughts. I cannot bear the others and their chat to-day. I
will go and think of her, since that is all she will let me do"; and
directly after breakfast David walked out on the downs and made by
instinct for the sea. The wounded deer shunned the lively herd.
The ladies, as they sat in the drawing-room, received visits of a less
flattering character than usual. Reginald kept popping in, inquiring,
"Where was Mr. Dodd?" and would not believe they had not hid him
somewhere. He was followed by Kenealy, who came in and put them but
one question, "Where is Dawd?"
"We don't know," said Mrs. Bazalgette sharply; "we have not been
intrusted with the care of Mr. Dodd."
Kenealy sauntered forth disconsolate. Finally Mr. Bazalgette put his
head in, and surveyed the room keenly but in silence; so then his wife
looked up, and asked him satirically if he did not want Mr. Dodd.
"Of course I do," was the gracious reply; "what else should I come
here for?"
"Well, he is lost; you had better put him in the 'Hue and Cry.


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