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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"

"
"Good Heavens! And what is the end of us?"
"The cold shoulder without a day's warning, and another fool set in
your place, and the house door slammed in your face, etc., etc. Oh,
with her there is but one step from flirtation to detestation. Not one
of her flames is her friend at this moment."
David hung his head, and his heart turned sick; there was a silence of
some seconds, during which Bazalgette eyed him keenly. "Sir," said
David, at last, "your words go through me like a knife."
"Never mind. It is a friendly surgeon's knife, not an assassin's."
"Yet you say it is only out of regard for me you warn me so against
her."
"I repeat it."
"Then, sir, if, by Heaven's mercy, you should be mistaken in her
character--if, little as I deserve it, I should succeed in winning her
regard--I might reckon on your permission--on your kind--support?"
"Hardly," said Mr. Bazalgette, hastily. He then stared at the honest
earnest face that was turned toward him. "Well," said he, "you modest
gentlemen have a marvelous fund of assurance at bottom. No, sir; with
the exception of this piece of friendly advice I shall be strictly
neutral. In return for it, if you should succeed, be so good as to
take her out of the house, that is the only stipulation I venture to
propose."
"I should be sure to do that," cried David, lifting his eyes to Heaven
with rapture; "but I shall not have the chance."
"So I keep telling you. You might as well hope to tempt a statue of
the Goddess Flirtation.


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