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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

I like Ned too--or,
as you say, love him--that's the word among such near relations.
I'm very fond of Ned. He's an amazingly good fellow, and a handsome
fellow--foolish and weak as yet; that's all. But the thing
is, Haredale--for I'll be very frank, as I told you I would at
first--independently of any dislike that you and I might have to being
related to each other, and independently of the religious differences
between us--and damn it, that's important--I couldn't afford a match of
this description. Ned and I couldn't do it. It's impossible.'
'Curb your tongue, in God's name, if this conversation is to last,'
retorted Mr Haredale fiercely. 'I have said I love my niece. Do you
think that, loving her, I would have her fling her heart away on any man
who had your blood in his veins?'
'You see,' said the other, not at all disturbed, 'the advantage of being
so frank and open. Just what I was about to add, upon my honour! I am
amazingly attached to Ned--quite doat upon him, indeed--and even if we
could afford to throw ourselves away, that very objection would be quite
insuperable.--I wish you'd take some wine?'
'Mark me,' said Mr Haredale, striding to the table, and laying his hand
upon it heavily.


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