rd which Crocker had put
into her mouth had roused all the woman within her, so that she was
enabled to fight her battle with a courage which would not have come
to her aid had he been more prudent.

"Who hates me?"

"Mr. Jerningham does, and Roden, and Sir Boreas, and Bobbin." She had
learned all their names. "How can they help hating a man that tears
up the mail papers! And I hate you."

"Clara!"

"I do. What business had you to say I used that nasty word? I never
do use them words. I wouldn't even so much as look at a man who'd
demean himself to put such words as them into my mouth. So I tell you
what it is, Mr. Crocker; you may just go away. I am going to become
Daniel Tribbledale's wife, and it isn't becoming in you to stand here
talking to a young woman that is engaged to another young man."

"And this is to be the end of it?"

"If you please, Mr. Crocker."

"Well!"

"If ever you feel inclined to speak your mind to another young woman,
and you carry it as far as we did, and you wishes to hold on to her,
don't you go and tear Her Majesty's Mail papers. And when she tells
you a bit of her mind, as I did just now, don't you go and put nasty
words into her mouth. Now, if you please, you may just as well send
over that clock and that harmonium to Daniel Tribbledale, Esq.,
King's Head Court, Great Broad Street." So saying she left him, and
congratulated herself on having terminated the interview without much
unpleasantness.

Crocker, as he shook the dust off his feet upon leaving Paradise Row,
began to ask himself whether he might not upon the whole congratulate
himself as to the end to which that piece of business had been
brought. When he had first resolved to offer his hand to the young
lady, he had certainly imagined that that hand would not be empty.
Clara was no doubt "a fine girl," but not quite so young as she was
once. And she had a temper of her own. Matrimony, too, was often
followed by many troubles. Paradise Row would no doubt utter jeers,
but he need not go there to hear them. He was not quite sure but that
the tearing of the papers would in the long run be beneficial to him.

CHAPTER XVI.

PEGWELL BAY.

July had come and nearly gone before Lord Hampstead again saw Marion
Fay. He had promised not to go to Pegwell Bay,--hardly understanding
why such a promise had been exacted from him, but still acceding to
it when it had been suggested to him by Mrs. Roden, at the request,
as she