Hearing notes behind her, not belonging to the songsters of the grove,
she looked round. Mr Pecksniff kissed his hand, and was at her side
immediately.
'Communing with nature?' said Mr Pecksniff. 'So am I.'
She said the morning was so beautiful that she had walked further than
she intended, and would return. Mr Pecksniff said it was exactly his
case, and he would return with her.
'Take my arm, sweet girl,' said Mr Pecksniff.
Mary declined it, and walked so very fast that he remonstrated. 'You
were loitering when I came upon you,' Mr Pecksniff said. 'Why be so
cruel as to hurry now? You would not shun me, would you?'
'Yes, I would,' she answered, turning her glowing cheek indignantly
upon him, 'you know I would. Release me, Mr Pecksniff. Your touch is
disagreeable to me.'
His touch! What? That chaste patriarchal touch which Mrs Todgers--surely
a discreet lady--had endured, not only without complaint, but with
apparent satisfaction! This was positively wrong. Mr Pecksniff was sorry
to hear her say it.
'If you have not observed,' said Mary, 'that it is so, pray take
assurance from my lips, and do not, as you are a gentleman, continue to
offend me.
Pages:
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911