“Yes, you could. You’d got a church at Tilborough, and might have gone there.”
“Oh, what a shame, Syd! You know I did, and you went on writing letters to me, saying your aunt kept you at home, and that you couldn’t eat or sleep for longing to see my pretty face.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did, sir!” cried the girl, stamping her foot.
“I swear I didn’t.”
“Oh, you wicked wretch! Why, I’ve got six letters with it in.”
“What! You’ve kept my letters? I told you to burn ’em all.”
“Well, I haven’t. I’ve got ’em all tied up with red ribbon, the colour of my heart’s blood, all but those father found.”
“Yes, that’s it. If you’d done as I told you the old man would never have known.”
“Oh, wouldn’t he, Syd? Now say, if you dare, that you didn’t write to me to come over so that you might see my darling sweet face again.”