Uttering which he threw a damp glance round the room.
Is that the genuine language of the heart, thought I? But suppose he had rehearsed the passage, what other kind of eloquence than gasps and expletives is to be expected from a man in his situation.
“It ought never to have taken place,” cried Mrs. Hargrave.
“Oh, mamma!” exclaimed Conny, “you are too severe, we are all to blame.”
I glanced at her pale face and thought, “Ah! She might have had me once. There would have been no hysterics then. Nothing but congratulations and new dresses.”
“We!” shrieked my aunt. “Did I ask you to elope with Mr. Theodore?”
“For heaven’s sake—!” interposed my uncle.
“You told me I should never marry him with your consent!” cried Conny.
“And you haven’t!” broke in my aunt.
“Good God!” shouted my uncle. “Isn’t the thing over? what’s the use of wrangling? what’s the use of snapping at each other like that?”