“Now isn’t this nice!” that lady exclaimed. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. “You must not think of me as one. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. 102 When he took her out, he was proud of her. “You shall,” she said. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. You are you. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink.
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