“But you can let her make love to you: is that an effort you feel equal to? and I must do the rest. Oh, we have a nice undertaking before us. But, if boys will cry for fruit that is out of their reach, and their silly sisters will indulge them—don't slobber me.”
“You are such a dear girl to fight for me so a little against your judgment.”
“A little, eh? Dead against it, you mean. Don't look so blank, David; you are all right as far as me. When my heart is on your side you can snap your fingers at my judgment.”
David was cheered by this gracious revelation.
Eve was a tormenting little imp. She could not help reminding him every now and then that all her maneuvers and all his love were to end in disappointment. These discouraging comments had dashed poor David's spirits more than once; but he was beginning to discover that they were invariably accompanied or followed by an access of cheerful zeal in the desperate cause—a pleasing phenomenon, though somewhat unintelligible to this honest fellow, who had never microscoped the enigmatical sex.
Mrs. Bazalgette reproached Lucy: “You never told me how handsome Mr. Dodd was.”
“Didn't I?
“No. He is the handsomest man I ever saw.”
“I have not observed that, but I think he is one of the worthiest.”
“I should not wonder,” said the other lady, carelessly. “It is clear you don't appreciate him here. You half apologized to me for inviting him.”