Miss X—— here thought proper to leave, casting from her eyes a small hardware-shop in the way of daggers at me, as much as to say, You are vicious, and I hate cheese! (theatrical for hate ye.)
Fanny, left to herself, revealed all to me. Miss X——, through the Venetian blinds, had seen a—gown in my room, late at night.
'It is too true,' said I, 'too, too true.'
'Al-lal-al-bert! you will b-b-break my h-heart. I c-could tear the d-d-destroy-oy-yer of my p-p-peace to p-p-pieces!'
'Come on,' said I, 'you shall behold the destroyer of your peace. You shall tear her to pieces, or I'll be d—dashed if I don't. I am tired of the blasted thing.'
I grasped her hand, and led her to the back-chamber. 'There, against the wall.'
'It is—'said she.
'It is,' said I, 'my dressing-gown! I will never again put it on my shoulders, never. Here goes!' Rip it went from the tails up the back to the neck.
'Hold, Albert! I will send it to the wounded soldiers.'
'Never! they are men, bricks, warriors. Such female frippery as this shall never degrade them. Into the rag-bag with it, and sell it to the Jews for a pair of China sheep or a crockery shepherd. Vamos!'