“Papa, it is because I have misconducted myself. I am a foolish, imprudent girl. I have been flirting with Mr. Falcon, and he has taken a CRUEL advantage of it—proposed to me—this very afternoon—actually!”
“Has he? Well, he is a fine fellow, and has a landed estate in Norfolk. There's nothing like land. They may well call it real property—there is something to show; you can walk on it, and ride on it, and look out of window at it: that IS property.”
“Oh, papa! what are you saying? Would you have me marry one man when I belong to another?”
“But you don't belong to any one except to me.”
“Oh, yes; I do. I belong to my dear Christopher.”
“Why, you dismissed him before my very eyes; and very ill you behaved, begging your pardon. The man was your able physician and your best friend, and said nothing that was not for your good; and you treated him like a dog.”
“Yes, but he has apologized.”
“What for? being treated like a dog?”
“Oh, don't say so, papa! At all events, he has apologized, as a gentleman should whenever—whenever”—
“Whenever a lady is in the wrong.”