Evan Harrington — Volume 5 by George Meredith
page 9 of 110 (08%)
page 9 of 110 (08%)
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'Send 'em! Why you don't think I'd have risked their cooling? I have sent 'em; and what do he do but send 'em travelling back, and here they be; and what objections his is I might study till I was blind, and I shouldn't see 'em.' 'No; I suppose not,' said Mrs. Mel. 'He won't eat 'em?' 'Won't eat anything: but his bed-room candle immediately. And whether his sheets are aired. And Mary says he sniffed at the chops; and that gal really did expect he 'd fling them at her. I told you what he was. Oh, dear!' The bell was heard ringing in the midst of the landlady's lamentations. 'Go to him yourself,' said Mrs. Mel. 'No Christian man should go to sleep without his supper.' 'Ah! but he ain't a common Christian,' returned Mrs. Hawkshaw. The old gentleman was in a hurry to know when his bed-room candle was coming up, or whether they intended to give him one at all that night; if not, let them say so, as he liked plain-speaking. The moment Mrs. Hawkshaw touched upon the chops, he stopped her mouth. 'Go about your business, ma'am. You can't cook 'em. I never expected you could: I was a fool to try you. It requires at least ten years' instruction before a man can get a woman to cook his chop as he likes it.' |
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