“Why? Is she anything extraordinary by birth and education?”
“Oh dear no, her father keeps a public-house like ours.”
Hogg heaved a sigh and lifted his eyebrows.
“What does that dear Eliza do in her bedroom? Does she read?”
“No.”
Harriet leaned over him to say in tones of mystery: “She brushes her hair.”
“Let’s go out, Harriet. . . .”
At first Harriet refused, but as the hair-brushing was prolonged she agreed to accompany Hogg for a few minutes.
Since his first attempt on her virtue he had kept his promise “to be good.” She was pleased—but disappointed. Quite sure of herself, she would have enjoyed temptation.
They stood on the high centre of the old Roman bridge, there was a mighty flood. The Ouse had overflowed his banks, carrying away with him timber and what not.