This was wormwood to Eleanor. It was in fact the very thing which all her friends had been saying for the last month past; and which experience now proved to be true. Eleanor resolved within herself that she would never again take any man's part. The world with all its villainy, and all its ill-nature, might wag as it like; she would not again attempt to set crooked things straight.
'But what did he do, my dear?' said Charlotte, who was really rather interested in the subject.
'He—he—he—'
'Well—come, it can't have been anything so very horrid, for the man was not tipsy.'
'Oh, I am sure he was,' said Eleanor. 'I am sure he must have been tipsy.'
'Well, I declare I didn't observe it. But what was it, my love?'
'Why, I believe I can hardly tell you. He talked such horrid stuff that you never heard the like; about religion, and heaven, and love—Oh dear,—he is such a nasty man.'
'I can really imagine the sort of stuff he would talk. Well—and then?'
'And then—he took hold of me.'
'Took hold of you?'