"_
"Of course you are not obliged; but you might as well."
"Well, then, it is Hunger."
"Hunger!"
"Hunger -- famine -- starvation. Don't you know English?"
"I hope you are not serious, madam," said Vizard, very gravely. "However,
if ladies will say such things as that, men with stomachs in their bosoms
must act accordingly. Oblige me by taking my arm, as you are weak, and we
will adjourn to that eating-house over the way."
"Much obliged," said the lady, satirically, "our acquaintance is not
_quite_ long enough for that."
He looked at her; a tall, slim, young lady, black merino, by no means
new, clean cuffs and collar leaning against the chair for support, and
yet sacrificing herself to conventional propriety, and even withstanding
him with a pretty little air of defiance that was pitiable, her pallor
and the weakness of her body considered.
The poor Woman-hater's bowels began to yearn. "Look here, you little
spitfire," said he, "if you don't instantly take my arm, I'll catch you
up and carry you over, with no more trouble than you would carry a
thread-paper."
She looked him up and down very keenly, and at last with a slight
expression of feminine approval, the first she had vouchsafed him.
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