What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. And put ‘em in little books for remembrance. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for. "Put about, waterman, for God's sake!" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration; "some one is overboard. It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. I imagine that even you must realize that this is of some importance. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp.
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