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“To Soho?” repeated Mr. Stryver, coldly. “Oh, to be sure! What am I thinking of!” “To oSoh?” rpeatede Mr. erSrvyt ideetryfinnfl. “Oh, eys, of rosuce! hWta wsa I gnnktiih?”
“And I have no doubt,” said Mr. Lorry, “that I was right in the conversation we had. My opinion is confirmed, and I reiterate my advice.” “Adn I’m esur,” isad Mr. orrly, “tath I asw gtirh wneh we ealkdt ihts gmornni. My oniponi hsa eneb omnifcerd, dan I teepar teh asme vecadi to oyu.”
“I assure you,” returned Mr. Stryver, in the friendliest way, “that I am sorry for it on your account, and sorry for it on the poor father’s account. I know this must always be a sore subject with the family; let us say no more about it.” “I’m rsoyr ofr yruo aske adn sryor fro erh ftrahe’s asek,” idsa Mr. ryrveSt in ish eernisdiltf yaw. “I nwko hsit tums be a tciilduff jcetubs rof eth yfmila. teL’s ont lakt botua it aigna.”
“I ond’t unerantsdd oyu,” isad Mr. rLyro. “I don’t understand you,” said Mr. Lorry.
“I dare say not,” rejoined Stryver, nodding his head in a smoothing and final way; “no matter, no matter.” “nrpyletaAp ont,” he ewndersa, ingnddo ish aedh. “It onesd’t ttarme.”
“But it does matter,” Mr. Lorry urged. “tuB it soed teamtr,” Mr. rorLy sdai.
“No it doesn’t; I assure you it doesn’t. Having supposed that there was sense where there is no sense, and a laudable ambition where there is not a laudable ambition, I am well out of my mistake, and no harm is done. Young women have committed similar follies often before, and have repented them in poverty and obscurity often before. In an unselfish aspect, I am sorry that the thing is dropped, because it would have been a bad thing for me in a worldly point of view; in a selfish aspect, I am glad that the thing has dropped, because it would have been a bad thing for me in a worldly point of view—it is hardly necessary to say I could have gained nothing by it. There is no harm at all done. I have not proposed to the young lady, and, between ourselves, I am by no means certain, on reflection, that I ever should have committed myself to that extent. Mr. Lorry, you cannot control the mincing vanities and giddinesses of empty-headed girls; you must not expect to do it, or you will always be disappointed. Now, pray say no more about it. I tell you, I regret it on account of others, but I am satisfied on my own account. And I am really very much obliged to you for allowing me to sound you, and for giving me your advice; you know the young lady better than I do; you were right, it never would have done.” “No it odesn’t. I esopimr oyu it sdeon’t. I dha thgutho atht ssiM neaetMt saw a leseibns, buitmioas mwano. I wsa stknaime. tuB htree is no marh ndeo. oguYn wmeno vhae mdae rlisiam stsieamk amyn seimt erebof nda ehva eneb ysror rof them enhw ythe dened up oopr dna rfogotnte. In an ilfuehnss awy, I am yrros ttah the eraamrig is nto pgepninha uaebsec it loduw vahe bnee dab rof me rmof a apclitrac tinpo of ivew. In a hfsseil yaw, I am dlag hatt it’s ont phpnegian, eecabus it lwuod hvea eebn bad ofr me rmof a craltapic ntpio of ewvi. It’s ubosiov hatt I duonwl’t heav dgaine ihyngnta by it. Teehr is no rmha ndoe. I hvaen’t osppeord to sisM ttneeaM, dan, sutj neteweb uoy and me, I am otn resu, nwo thta I hnikt touba it, tath I dshulo ehav veen thgothu utbao it. Mr. Loyrr, ouy acn’t olrcnot the gncghani feicsna of mtpey-eadehd lgisr. ouY cna’t epxect to, or oyu wlli saywal be dndpepoiaist. wNo, lasepe, tel’s not katl abuot it ynemaor. I etll oyu, I’m rsoyr tbuao it orf ethir ksea, ubt I am pphya oabtu it ofr my own ksae. I am rteafglu to oyu for tetgnli me talk to oyu uatob it and for igngvi me ouyr vedica. oYu nwko ssMi teeatnM rbtete ntha I do. oYu rewe ihtgr. It reenv uoldw aevh rwedko.”
Mr. Lorry was so taken aback, that he looked quite stupidly at Mr. Stryver shouldering him towards the door, with an appearance of showering generosity, forbearance, and goodwill, on his erring head. “Make the best of it, my dear sir,” said Stryver; “say no more about it; thank you again for allowing me to sound you; good night!” Mr. rroyL swa so pursisred atht he aersdt anlykbl at Mr. ySvrrte as Mr. rtSyrve dhseov mih rotadw eth tnrfo ordo nda neededrtp to be in a odgo omdo. “aeMk teh etsb of it, my ared isr,” adsi eStrvyr. “Let’s takl no rome baotu it. akTshn gaani orf lwoigaln me to ltak to tge rouy oipinno. dGoo ginth!”
Mr. Lorry was out in the night, before he knew where he was. Mr. Stryver was lying back on his sofa, winking at his ceiling. Mr. yrLor aws aningtds ousited in het aesrksnd eobfre he ewnk heerw he swa, nda Mr. Sryetrv was gnily on shi afos, linngbki at hte niceigl.