“No, no—it’s no such thing!” he said, with impatience. “Five years, nine months, and a few days. Fifteen months nearly have passed since he vanished, and is there anything so wonderful in an engagement of little more than five years?”
“It seems long in a forward view. Don’t build too much upon such promises, sir. Remember, you have once be’n deceived. Her meaning may be good; but there—she’s young yet.”
“Deceived? Never!” said Boldwood, vehemently. “She never promised me at that first time, and hence she did not break her promise! If she promises me, she’ll marry me. Bathsheba is a woman to her word.”
IV
Troy was sitting in a corner of The White Hart tavern at Casterbridge, smoking and drinking a steaming mixture from a glass. A knock was given at the door, and Pennyways entered.
“Well, have you seen him?” Troy inquired, pointing to a chair.
“Boldwood?”
“No—Lawyer Long.”
“He wadn’ at home. I went there first, too.”
“That’s a nuisance.”