‘Have you parted with any of it?’
She threw the grass about, and looked another way, but said nothing.
Martin repeated his question.
‘Lor, my dear Mr Chuzzlewit! really you must excuse me! How very odd you are.’
‘If it be odd in me to desire to know whether you love the young man whom I understand you are to marry, I am very odd,’ said Martin. ‘For that is certainly my wish.’
‘He’s such a monster, you know,’ said Merry, pouting.
‘Then you don’t love him?’ returned the old man. ‘Is that your meaning?’
‘Why, my dear Mr Chuzzlewit, I’m sure I tell him a hundred times a day that I hate him. You must have heard me tell him that.’
‘Often,’ said Martin.
‘And so I do,’ cried Merry. ‘I do positively.’