Not for a kingdom, fluttering my fan. I knew not what I did.—But I could have killed him.
We are so much observed—else on my knees, my dear Miss Howe, would I beg your interest with your charming friend.
She'll have nothing to say to you.
(I had not then your letters, my dear.)
Killing words!—But indeed I have deserved them, and a dagger in my heart besides. I am so conscious of my demerits, that I have no hope, but in your interposition—could I owe that favour to Miss Howe's mediation which I cannot hope for on any other account—
My mediation, vilest of men!—My mediation!—I abhor you!—From my soul, I abhor you, vilest of men!—Three or four times I repeated these words, stammering too.—I was excessively fluttered.
You can tell me nothing, Madam, so bad as I will call myself. I have been, indeed, the vilest of men; but now I am not so. Permit me—every body's eyes are upon us!—but one moment's audience—to exchange but ten words with you, dearest Miss Howe—in whose presence you please—for your dear friend's sake—but ten words with you in the next apartment.
It is an insult upon me to presume that I would exchange with you, if I could help it!—Out of my way! Out of my sight—fellow!
And away I would have flung: but he took my hand. I was excessively disordered—every body's eyes more and more intent upon us.
Mr. Hickman, whom my mother had drawn on one side, to enjoin him a patience, which perhaps needed not to have been enforced, came up just then, with my mother who had him by his leading-strings—by his sleeve I should say.