“A—well Sir; I hears they be greatly improved.”
“Pshaw! you talk of knowing the world, Bunting, and yet you pant to enter it with all the inexperience of a boy. Why even I could set you an example.”
“‘Tis ‘cause I knows the world,” said the Corporal, exceedingly nettled, “that I wants to get back to it. I have heard of some spoonies as never kist a girl, but never heard of any one who had kist a girl once, that did not long to be at it again.”
“And I suppose, Mr. Profligate, it is that longing which makes you so hot for London?”
“There have been worse longings nor that,” quoth the Corporal gravely.
“Perhaps you meditate marrying one of the London belles; an heiress—eh?”
“Can’t but say,” said the Corporal very solemnly, “but that might be ‘ticed to marry a fortin, if so be she was young, pretty, good-tempered, and fell desperately in love with me,—best quality of all.”
“You’re a modest fellow.”
“Why, the longer a man lives, the more knows his value; would not sell myself a bargain now, whatever might at twenty-one!”
“At that rate you would be beyond all price at seventy,” said Walter: “but now tell me, Bunting, were you ever in love,—really and honestly in love?”