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Updated: May 1, 2025
And there was she bound by some indissoluble knot to, Mr. Poojean. "That Mr. Newton is a friend of yours?" asked Mr. Poojean. "Yes; a friend of ours," said Clarissa. "Then I will express my intense admiration for his wit, general character, and personal appearance.
"Awfully grand, and beautifully soft, and all the rest of it," said Ralph, as he went on with Mary Bonner by his side. "That fellow has got no touch of poetry in him!" said Poojean to himself. In the meantime Clarissa, pausing a moment as she entered through the open window, heard Ralph's cheery voice. How well she knew its tones!
Neefit, Moggs, and Horsball; nor were they thoroughly acquainted with the easy nature of our hero's changing convictions. To Clarissa he certainly was heroic; to Patience he was very dear; to old Mrs. Brownlow he was almost a demigod; to Mr. Poojean he was an object of envy.
Patience has gone in, and I haven't seen Clarissa for ever so long." Soon after this the guests began to go away. Mr. Truepeny gave Mrs. Brownlow's hand the last squeeze, and Mr. Poojean remarked that all terrestrial joys must have an end. "Not but that such hours as these," said he, "have about them a dash of the celestial which almost gives them a claim to eternity."
"I didn't say that she was flirting, mind. I wouldn't hint such a thing of any young lady, let her be anybody's cousin. Young ladies never flirt. But young men do sometimes; don't they? After all, it is the best fun going; isn't it?" "I don't know," said Clarissa. By this time they had got round to the steps leading from the garden to the house. "I think I'll go in, Mr. Poojean."
"I beg, then, that there may be only two turns," said Clarissa. But she did not know how to stop, or to get rid of her abominable companion. "If I mustn't abuse him after three turns, he must be a favourite," said the persevering Poojean. "I suppose he is a favourite. By-the-bye, what a lovely girl that is with whom your favourite was, shall I say flirting?" "That lady is my cousin, Mr. Poojean."
"Can there be a wonder that I leave them with such temptation as this," said the gallant Poojean. Clarissa hated him worse than ever, and would not look at him, or even make the faintest sign that she heard him. The voice of Ralph Newton through the trees struck her ears; and yet the voice wasn't loud, as it would not be if it were addressed with tenderness to Mary.
"I am not quite sure that our dear old friend isn't right," said the witty man, whose name was Poojean; "a chair to sit down upon, and a wall or two around one, and a few little knick-nacks about, carpets and tables and those sort of things, are comfortable at times." "I wonder you should leave them then," said Clarissa.
She did go in, and Mr. Poojean was left looking at the moon all alone, as though he had separated himself from all mirth and society for that melancholy but pleasing occupation. He stood there gazing upwards with his thumbs beneath his waistcoat. "Grand, is it not?" he said to the first couple that passed him.
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