There had been as little trepidation as money in
that case,--simply love and kisses, parting, despair, and a broken
heart. Here things were more august. There was plenty of money, and,
let affairs go as they might, there would be no broken heart. But
that perseverance in love of which Mr. Spooner intended to make
himself so bright an example does require some courage. The Adelaide
Pallisers of the world have a way of making themselves uncommonly
unpleasant to a man when they refuse him for the third or fourth
time. They allow themselves sometimes to express a contempt which is
almost akin to disgust, and to speak to a lover as though he were no
better than a footman. And then the lover is bound to bear it all,
and when he has borne it, finds it so very difficult to get out of
the room. Mr. Spooner had some idea of all this as his cousin drove
him up to the door, at what he then thought a very fast pace. "D----
it all," he said, "you needn't have brought them up so confoundedly
hot." But it was not of the horses that he was really thinking, but
of the colour of his own nose.
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