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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"


"Oh, don't touch me, please. I never heard of a lady listening!!!!"
She then turned her back on her aunt in a somewhat uncourtier-like
manner, and darted out of the place, every fiber of her frame strung
up tight with excitement. She felt she was not the calm, dispassionate
being of yesterday, and hurried to her own room and locked herself in.
Mrs. Bazalgette remained behind in a state of bitter mortification,
and breathing fury on her small scale. But what could she do? David
would be out of her reach in a few minutes, and Lucy was scarce
vulnerable.
In the absence of any definite spite, she thought she could not go
wrong in thwarting whatever Lucy wished, and her wish had been that
David should go. Besides, if she kept him in the house, who knows, she
might pique him with Lucy, and even yet turn him her way; so she lay
in wait for him in the hall. He soon appeared with his bag in his
hand. She inquired, with great simplicity, where he was going. He told
her he was going away. She remonstrated, first tenderly, then almost
angrily. "We all counted on you to play the violin. We can't dance to
the piano alone."
"I am very sorry, but I have got my orders." Then this subtle lady
said, carelessly, "Lucy will be _au desespoir._ She will get no
dancing. She said to me just now, 'Aunt, do try and persuade Mr. Dodd
to stay over the ball. We shall miss him so.'"
"When did she say that?"
"Just this minute. Standing at the door there.


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