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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

I have lost no old likings or
dislikings; my memory has not failed me by a hair's-breadth. You ask me
to give you a meeting. I say, I am here.'
'Our meeting, Haredale,' said Mr Chester, tapping his snuff-box, and
following with a smile the impatient gesture he had made--perhaps
unconsciously--towards his sword, 'is one of conference and peace, I
hope?'
'I have come here,' returned the other, 'at your desire, holding myself
bound to meet you, when and where you would. I have not come to bandy
pleasant speeches, or hollow professions. You are a smooth man of the
world, sir, and at such play have me at a disadvantage. The very last
man on this earth with whom I would enter the lists to combat with
gentle compliments and masked faces, is Mr Chester, I do assure you. I
am not his match at such weapons, and have reason to believe that few
men are.'
'You do me a great deal of honour Haredale,' returned the other, most
composedly, 'and I thank you. I will be frank with you--'
'I beg your pardon--will be what?'
'Frank--open--perfectly candid.'
'Hab!' cried Mr Haredale, drawing his breath. 'But don't let me
interrupt you.'
'So resolved am I to hold this course,' returned the other, tasting his
wine with great deliberation; 'that I have determined not to quarrel
with you, and not to be betrayed into a warm expression or a hasty
word.


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