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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

You
see the advantage of our having met. We understand each other. We quite
agree. We have a most complete and thorough explanation, and we know
what course to take.--Why don't you taste your tenant's wine? It's
really very good.'
'Pray who,' said Mr Haredale, 'have aided Emma, or your son? Who are
their go-betweens, and agents--do you know?'
'All the good people hereabouts--the neighbourhood in general, I think,'
returned the other, with his most affable smile. 'The messenger I sent
to you to-day, foremost among them all.'
'The idiot? Barnaby?'
'You are surprised? I am glad of that, for I was rather so myself. Yes.
I wrung that from his mother--a very decent sort of woman--from whom,
indeed, I chiefly learnt how serious the matter had become, and so
determined to ride out here to-day, and hold a parley with you on this
neutral ground.--You're stouter than you used to be, Haredale, but you
look extremely well.'
'Our business, I presume, is nearly at an end,' said Mr Haredale, with
an expression of impatience he was at no pains to conceal. 'Trust me, Mr
Chester, my niece shall change from this time. I will appeal,' he added
in a lower tone, 'to her woman's heart, her dignity, her pride, her
duty--'
'I shall do the same by Ned,' said Mr Chester, restoring some errant
faggots to their places in the grate with the toe of his boot.


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