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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"

They exchanged another uneasy
look.
"Uncle," said Lucy, speaking very quickly, "you are unhappy. I am the
cause. I am come to say that I promise you not to marry anyone my aunt
shall propose to me."
"My dear girl, then you won't marry that shopkeeper there?"
"What need of names, still less of epithets? I will marry no friend of
hers."
"Ah! now you are my brother's daughter again."
"No, I love you no better than I did this morning; but the--"
Celestial happiness diffused itself over old Fountain's face, and Lucy
glided back to the piano just as the quadrille ended.
"Give me your arm, Mr. Dodd," said she, authoritatively. She took his
arm, and made the tour of the room leaning on him, and chatting gayly.
She introduced him to the best people, and contrived to appear to the
whole room joyous and flattered, leaning on David's arm.
The young fellows envied him so.
Every now and then David felt her noble white arm twitch convulsively,
and her fingers pinch the cloth of his sleeve where it was loose.
She guided him to the supper-room. It was empty. "Oblige me with a
glass of water."
He gave it her. She drank it.
"Mr. Dodd, the advice I gave you with my own lips I never retracted.
My aunt imposed upon you. It was done to mortify you. It has failed,
as you may have observed. My head aches so, it is intolerable. When
they ask you where I am, say I am unwell, and have retired to my room.
I shall not be at breakfast; directly after breakfast go to your
sister, and tell her your friend Lucy declined you, though she knows
your value, and would not let you be mortified by nullities and
heartless fools.


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