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Updated: May 14, 2025
"That's Macan, our corporal of marines, who's getting it now. By Jove, the doctor is giving it him hot!" He certainly was, judging from what reached my ears, at least. "Stuff and nonsense, corporal!" I heard Dr Nettleby rasp out snappishly, his voice sounding from within the cabin just like a terrier dog barking, for I could hear him plainly enough.
At all events, I have no right to force myself upon her acquaintance. She prefers Mrs. Nettleby; I have not the false humility to say, that I think Mrs. Nettleby will prove as safe or as good a friend as I hope I should he. But of this Mrs. Bolingbroke has a right to judge.
"You must have the honours of the day," added she, seizing Emma's hand to conduct her to the place of honour. "Pray excuse me," said Mrs. Granby, "honours are so little suited to me: I am perfectly well here." "But with that window at your back, my dear madam!" said Mrs. Nettleby. "I do not feel the slightest breath of air. But perhaps I crowd these ladies."
Whilst our heroine was thus acting to perfection the part of a dutiful wife, Mrs. Nettleby was seconding her to the best of her abilities, and announcing her amongst all their acquaintance, in the interesting character of "a woman that is very much to be pitied." "Poor Mrs. Bolingbroke! Don't you think, ma'am, she is very much changed since her marriage?
"Yis, sor, I'll till yer honner how it wor, sure," explained the wily fellow, who could tell from the doctor's change of tone that his offence was condoned and that he need fear no worse consequences now than one of his usual lectures, which only went in at one ear and out at the other, as Dr Nettleby himself said.
My dearest friend, I never was so much in want of an adviser. Ever yours, At this consultation, Mrs. Nettleby expressed the utmost astonishment at Mr. Bolingbroke's strange conduct, and assured Griselda, that if she did not exert herself, all was lost, and she must give up the hope of ever having her own way again as long as she lived.
"What's the matter with you?" asked Dr Nettleby, in his sharp, incisive manner, which had not grown any milder from his sojourn in the China Sea and an attack of liver complaint. "You seem all right, my man." "I've got overhand knots in my gaffs, sir." "What on earth do you mean?" cried the doctor, puzzled by the name of this new disease. "Overhand knots in your gaffs why, you must be drunk!"
He had, alas, a joint share with me in that accursed vessel." He was overcome with emotion again when he had got so far; and Dr Nettleby, fearing the narration was too much for him in his present weak state, wanted him to leave off his story until he felt better.
"He's saying something, doctor," he cried to Dr Nettleby, who had pluckily followed him up close, albeit so much older a man. "See if you can make him out; I don't understand the lingo." The doctor listened for a moment and shook his head. "It's no language that I can recognise," he said after a pause, as if thinking over all the dialects he had ever come across in his wanderings.
Nettleby, whom she had summoned the preceding night by the following note: "I have been prevented from spending this evening with you, my dearest Mrs. Nettleby, by the strangest conduct imaginable: am sure you will not believe it when I tell it to you. Come to me, I conjure you, as early to-morrow as you possibly can, that I may explain to you all that has passed, and consult as to the future.
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