"So, I suppose," drawing a long whiff from his pipe, "I must have been a great way off; and these same offers must have been made a long time ago."
"I could marry yet, if I pleased!" screamed the indignant spinster.
"Doubtful. And pray who is the happy man?"
"I have too much delicacy to reveal secrets, or to subject myself or him to your vulgar ridicule."
"I wish him luck!" said the Captain, turning over the leaves of Juliet's portfolio. "What the deuce does the girl mean? She has scribbled over all the paper. I hope she don't amuse herself by writing love-letters?"
"Do you think that I would suffer my niece to spend her time in such an improper manner? But, indeed, brother, I wish you would speak to Juliet (for she does not mind me) on this subject."
"On what subject—writing love-letters?"
"No, sir: something almost as bad."
"Well—out with it."
"She has the folly to write verses."