“And she had much better have sinned against God, hadn't she? He is more forgiving than we perfect creatures that cheat insurance companies. And so, my fine fellow, you hid the truth from her for two or three months.”
No answer.
“Strike off those two or three months; would the banns have ever been cried?”
“Well, uncle,” said Christopher, hard pressed, “I am glad she has got a champion; and I hope you will always keep your eye on her.”
“I mean to.”
“Good-morning.”
“No; don't be in a hurry. I have something else to say, not so provoking. Do you know the arts by which she was made to believe you wished her to marry again?”
“I wished her to marry again! Are you mad, uncle?”
“Whose handwriting is on this envelope?”
“Mine, to be sure.”