I said nothing, but was just gently pulling his ear, when the church bells struck out.
"If it isn't church-time," said I; "but I'm drest. Nothing, but my bonnet."
"Well, Lotty, you can go without me; yes, you"—and then he paused, and looked at me, I thought so strangely, and said—"no, my love: you shall not go alone. We'll go together." With this, he left the room; and a sudden shadow seemed to fall about me.
The next moment, the servant introduced "Mr. Truepenny." With his face the truth flashed upon me that—that—I didn't know what. But, instantly, I felt resolved to find it out; and so, in a minute, was in my very best spirits.
"Frederick," said I, "will be here directly. He's preparing for church."
"Church," said Mr. Truepenny, as if the word half stuck between his lips.
"Don't you ever go to church, Mr. Truepenny? I mean"—
"Always," said he. "But the fact is, when one comes to the sea-side"—
"Peter's boat," I observed very seriously, "was at the sea-side."
"To be sure, certainly," said he; then he looked at the toe of his boot, and then at the pattern of the carpet; in fact, anywhere but at me. Then he coughed, and said—for all the world as if he was talking of prawns—"I'm told there's very good preaching about here."