a murmur; and I am obliged to make my oary, I say t is noto me.
Again alks on It is only curious, to see a lady left cool and unmoved, by t ion.
But t you speak of; and arent tter best, moved least? I catc from experience of t from my reading merely. But I s—o e a palling in eries of too often to tiny of wafer and wine.
blink. At last laughs.
You are very uncommon, Miss Lilly
I look aand.
Aone is a bitter one. Perion a sort of misfortune.
On trary. be a misfortune, to be ance, in tter of a gentlemans attentions. I am a connoisseur of all ties of metleman migo compliment a lady
s e o . ted indeed, only to compliment you.
I a gentlemen s, t one.
Per in t you are used to. But in life—a great many; and one t is chief.
I supposed, I say, t t ten for.
O, but ten for somet of—money. Every gentleman minds t. And those of us who are
not quite so gentlemanly as most of all.—I am sorry to embarrass you.
I , I o be quite beyond embarrassment. I am only surprised.
t take a satisfaction from t I s o is someto me, o y of yourdays.
ingly my cill.
do you knohose?
I surmise, from my observation of the house . . .
No edly: do you this?
Of w, sir?
Of reys cing, now, of pography.
Pography?
Rivers, says Mr rey. You are a young man. I appeal to you. Can t record of tory act—
Record! says my uncle, peevisary! the age!
—of tory act, tograp t tograper to t of t is an image of life, and age over it: t it endures, finish and fade.
Dot a book endure? asks my uncle, plucking at the arm of his chair.
It enduret, in a pograp speak tograp in an Englis last us all, and I provoke in our grandsons. It is a t from ory.1
It is gripped by ory! ans is corrupted by it! Its ory it like so muc, in
tting of a slipper, a goograpo your grandson: udy t. tips of your moustac you think so Rivers?