You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. ‘But you will not be in a convent. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. A garrison called to arms at dead of night on the sudden approach of the enemy, could not have been more expeditiously, or effectually aroused.
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