We can but hope, put our trust in the
forgiving nature of woman."
It now wanted but a very short time to Christmas. As the day drew
near Gammon felt that this state of worrying suspense was growing
intolerable. Polly's suspicions were louder, her temper became
uncertain; once or twice she forgot herself and used language
calculated to cause a breach of the peace. On these occasions Gammon
found himself doubting whether she really was the girl after his own
heart; he could have wished that she had rather less spirit.
Overcome by her persistence, he at length definitely engaged to wait
no longer than the end of the year. If by that time Greenacre had
not put things in order, Polly was to seek her aunt and make known
all that they had discovered.
"We won't be 'umbugged!" she exclaimed. "And it begins to look to me
jolly like 'umbugging. I don't know what _you_ think."
Gammon admitted that the state of things was very unsatisfactory,
and must come to an end. The last day of the year--so be it. After
that Polly should have her way.
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