SUNDAY, MAY 26, 18—.
"My dear," said Fred, this morning—"I—I don't think I can go to church. But, of course, you can go, I don't feel like myself this morning."
"I don't wonder at that, love. Indeed, you don't look yourself. But I expected as much."—
"You, Lotty!" and Fred opened his eyes.
"Why, I knew what would come of it. Here were you out till twelve o'clock"—
"It wanted a quarter," said Fred, as if a quarter could make any difference.
"Twelve o'clock," said I firmly, "allowing for watches, before you came home."
"I told you—I was out talking with Tom," and Fred tapped the table.
"Well, if I must say what I think, Fred; I don't like Mr. Truepenny. I—do—not—like—him."
"I don't wish you to like him, my dear. You're to like and love me; and to love one man industriously and conscientiously is as much as any woman can be expected to do. More no reasonable husband can ask of her."