“A good thing to know,” thought the doctor, as the don thus spoke. Then aloud, “But pray explain yourself.”
“Half my income spent in ribbons; but that is nothing.”
“Dear me—go on.”
“To the theatre she will go—but also that is nothing.”
“Dear me—proceed.”
“My ears she boxes with a will—that is nothing.”
“Indeed—indeed.”
“But just look here. I think that’s something, surely.”
Here he handed the horrid letter to the doctor, whose horror was unapproachable when he had read it minutely.
“Stone, don, I’m stone.”