"That will settle the difficulty; if it be enough."
"But during that hour, there is to be no word spoken except what has to do with the lessons. You'll bear me out in that?"
"There must be some give and take in regard to ordinary conversation."
"You don't know what a beast he is, papa. What am I to do if he tells me to my face that I'm a beautiful young woman?"
"Tell him that you are quite aware of the fact, but that it is a matter you do not care to talk about."
"And then he'll simper. You do not know what a vile creature he can be. I can take care of myself. You needn't be a bit afraid about that. I fancy I could give him a slap on the face which would startle him a little. And if we came to blows, I do believe that he would not have a leg to stand upon. He is nearly fifty."
"My dear!"
"Say forty. But I do believe a good shove would knock him off his nasty little legs. I used to think he wore a wig; but no hairdresser could be such a disgrace to his profession to let such a wig as that go out of his shop."
"I always regarded him as a good-looking young man," said Mr. O'Mahony. Here Rachel shook her head, and made a terrible grimace. "It's all fancy you know," continued he.
"I suppose it is. But if you hear that I have told him that I regard him as a disgusting monkey, you must not be surprised." This was the last conversation which Mr. O'Mahony and his daughter had respecting Mahomet M. Moss, till they reached London.