You hit jolly hard,
old girl, and you kicked and you scratched. Why, I've bruises yet!"
"Serve you right! Do let me put my 'air and my 'at straight."
"I say, Polly--" and he whispered something.
"I s'pose so--some day," was her answer, with head bent over the hat
she was smoothing into shape.
"But won't you think yourself too good for me? Remember, you've got
a lord for your uncle."
It returned upon both with the freshness of surprise; even Polly had
quite lost sight of the startling fact during the last few minutes.
They looked at the unaddressed letter; they gazed into each other's
faces.
"You haven't gone and made a mistake?" asked Polly in an awed
undertone.
"There now! You didn't think; you're beginning to be sorry."
"No, I'm not."
"You are; I can see it."
"Oh, all right; have it your own way! I thought you wouldn't be so
sweet-tempered very long. You're all alike, you men."
"Why, it's you that can't keep your temper!" shouted Gammon. "I only
wanted to hear you say it wouldn't make any difference, happen what
might.
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