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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

Upon my soul, I shouldn't.'
The subject, perhaps from being of too exclusive and professional a
nature, failed to interest Hugh as much as his friend had anticipated.
But he had no time to pursue it, for at this crisis Mr Tappertit entered
precipitately; at sight of whom Dolly uttered a scream of joy, and
fairly threw herself into his arms.
'I knew it, I was sure of it!' cried Dolly. 'My dear father's at the
door. Thank God, thank God! Bless you, Sim. Heaven bless you for this!'
Simon Tappertit, who had at first implicitly believed that the
locksmith's daughter, unable any longer to suppress her secret passion
for himself, was about to give it full vent in its intensity, and to
declare that she was his for ever, looked extremely foolish when she
said these words;--the more so, as they were received by Hugh and Dennis
with a loud laugh, which made her draw back, and regard him with a fixed
and earnest look.
'Miss Haredale,' said Sim, after a very awkward silence, 'I hope
you're as comfortable as circumstances will permit of. Dolly Varden,
my darling--my own, my lovely one--I hope YOU'RE pretty comfortable
likewise.'
Poor little Dolly! She saw how it was; hid her face in her hands; and
sobbed more bitterly than ever.


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