“Who is this Bolest?”
“Boles, Mr. Student,” she said, as if offended with me for blundering over the name, “he is Boles—my young man.”
“Young man!”
“Why are you so surprised, sir? Cannot I, a girl, have a young man?”
She? A girl? Well!
“Oh, why not?” I said. “All things are possible. And has he been your young man long?”
“Six years.”
“Oh, ho!” I thought. “Well, let us write your letter...”
And I tell you plainly that I would willingly have changed places with this Boles if his fair correspondent had been not Teresa but something less than she.
“I thank you most heartily, sir, for your kind services,” said Teresa to me, with a curtsey. “Perhaps I can show you some service, eh?”