'Why, bless my soul!' said Tom, looking at her with great pride, when
they had tenderly embraced each other, 'how altered you are Ruth! I
should scarcely have known you, my love, if I had seen you anywhere
else, I declare! You are so improved,' said Tom, with inexpressible
delight; 'you are so womanly; you are so--positively, you know, you are
so handsome!'
'If YOU think so Tom--'
'Oh, but everybody must think so, you know,' said Tom, gently smoothing
down her hair. 'It's matter of fact; not opinion. But what's the
matter?' said Tom, looking at her more intently, 'how flushed you are!
and you have been crying.'
'No, I have not, Tom.'
'Nonsense,' said her brother stoutly. 'That's a story. Don't tell me! I
know better. What is it, dear? I'm not with Mr Pecksniff now. I am going
to try and settle myself in London; and if you are not happy here (as I
very much fear you are not, for I begin to think you have been deceiving
me with the kindest and most affectionate intention) you shall not
remain here.'
Oh! Tom's blood was rising; mind that! Perhaps the Boar's Head had
something to do with it, but certainly the footman had.
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