"I am sorry, George," the old
gentleman gravely proceeded; "I am really sorry you haven't got your eye
on one of those nice girls. You don't know what a loss you're inflicting
on yourself; you don't know what trouble and mortification you're
causing me by this shilly-shally conduct of yours."
"If you would only allow me to explain myself, sir, you would view my
conduct in a totally different light. I am ready to marry to-morrow, if
the lady will have me."
"The devil you are! So you have got a lady in your eye, after all?
Why in Heaven's name couldn't you tell me so before? Never mind, I'll
forgive you everything, now I know you have laid your hand on a wife.
Fill your glass again. Here's her health in a bumper. By-the-by, who is
she?"
"I'll tell you directly, admiral. When we began this conversation, I
mentioned that I was a little anxious--"
"She's not one of my round dozen of nice girls--aha, Master George, I
see that in your face already! Why are you anxious?"
"I am afraid you will disapprove of my choice, sir."
"Don't beat about the bush! How the deuce can I say whether I disapprove
or not, if you won't tell me who she is?"
"She is the eldest daughter of Andrew Vanstone, of Combe-Raven.
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