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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"

I can't think she would go so far out of her way as to
affront anybody unless she had an uncommon respect for him."
"Listen to that, now! I am on my beam-ends."
"Now think a minute, David," said Eve, calmly, ignoring his late
observation; "did you ever know her snub anybody?"
"Never. Did you?"
"No; and she never would, unless she took an uncommon interest in the
person. When a girl likes a man, she thinks she has a right to ill-use
him a little bit; he has got her affection to set against a scratch or
two; the others have not. So she has not the same right to scratch
them. La! listen to me teaching him A B C. Why, David, you know
nothing; it's scandalous."
Eve's confidence communicated itself at last to David; but when he
asked her whether she thought Lucy would consent to be his wife, her
countenance fell in her turn. "That is a very different thing. I am
pretty sure she likes you; how could she help it? but I doubt she will
never go to the altar with you. Don't be angry with me, Davy, dear.
You are in love with her, and to you she is an angel. But I am of her
own sex, and see her as she is; no matter who she likes, she will
never be content to make a bad match, as they call it. She told me so
once with her own lips. But she had no need to tell me; worldliness is
written on her. David, David, you don't know these great houses, nor
the fair-spoken creatures that live in them, with tongues tuned to
sentiment, and mild eyes fixed on the main chance.


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