So when Aunt Becky and Miss Gertrude at length agreed on an
armistice--the conditions being that the question of Mr. Dangerfield's
bliss or misery was to stand over for judgment until the general's
return, which could not now be deferred more than two or three
weeks--the amorous swain, on being apprised of the terms by Aunt
Rebecca, acquiesced with alacrity, in a handsome, neat, and gallant
little speech, and kissed Aunt Rebecca's slender and jewelled hand, with
a low bow and a grim smile, all which she received very graciously.
Of course, Dangerfield knew pretty well how matters stood; he was not a
man to live in a dream; facts were his daily bread. He knew to a month
how old he was, and pretty exactly how time had dealt with his personal
charms. He had a very exact and cynical appreciation of the terms on
which Miss Chattesworth would--if at all--become and continue to be his
wife. But he wanted her--she suited him exactly, and all he needed to
make his kingdom sure, when he had obtained her, was his legal rights.
He was no Petruchio; neither was it his theory to rule by love. He had a
different way.
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