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Jiffin, quite lost in the contemplation of Afy's numerous attractions, unusually conspicuous as they were. "Had I known that you were abroad, Miss Hallijohn, and enjoying a holiday, perhaps I might have done it, too, in the hope of coming across you somewhere or other." His words were bona fide as his admiration. Afy saw that, so she could afford to treat him rather de haut en bas.
What could have induced you to come?" "If you are going to be upon the high ropes, it seems I might as well have stayed away," was Afy's reply, given in the pert, but good-humored manner she had ever used to Joyce. "My hand won't damage yours. I am not poison." "You are looked upon in the neighborhood as worse than poison, Afy," returned Joyce, in a tone, not of anger but of sorrow.
I'll do anything if you will but have me still, Miss Afy. I have bought the ring, you know." "Your intentions are very kind," was the distant answer, "but it's a thing impossible; my mind is fully made up. So farewell for good, Jiffin; and I wish you better luck in your next venture." Afy, lifting her capacious dress, for the streets had just been watered, minced off. And Mr.
James gave a water party, and the astounded Thames swelled with pride as his broad breast bore on the ducal barges. St. Maurice, who was in the Guards, secured his band; and Lord Squib, who, though it was July, brought a furred great coat, secured himself. Lady Afy looked like Amphitrite, and Lady Caroline looked in love.
I was mad with jealousy; for I then saw that Afy had sent me away that she might entertain him." "I thought you said this Thorn never came but at dusk," observed Mr. Carlyle. "I never knew him to do so until that evening. All I can say is, he was there then. He flew along swiftly, and I afterwards heard the sound of his horse's hoofs galloping away.
"I do not understand you," said Mr. Carlyle. He did not. It was as good as Hebrew to him. "The Levison of to-day, your opponent, is the Thorn who went after Afy Hallijohn. It is so, Mr. Archibald." "It cannot be!" slowly uttered Mr. Carlyle, thought upon thought working havoc with his brain. "Where did you hear this?" Mr. Dill told his tale.
"You assume this to have been the case, Afy, as others have assumed it. I do not think that it was Richard Hare who killed your father." "Not Richard Hare!" exclaimed Afy, after a pause. "Then who do you think did it, sir I?" "Nonsense, Afy." "I know he did it," proceeded Afy. "It is true that I did not see it done, but I know it for all that. I know it, sir." "You cannot know it, Afy."
"This is another aunt," cried Afy, softly. "I have never mentioned her, not being friends. Differences divided us. Of course that makes me all the more anxious to obey her request." An uncommon good hand at an impromptu tale was Afy. And Mrs. Latimer consented to her demand.
"Only he," nodding towards Sir Francis, "was not always the great man he is now." "Ah!" "I have held my tongue about it, for it's no affair of mine, but I don't mind letting you into the secret. Would you believe that that grand baronet there, would-be member for West Lynne, used, years ago, to dodge about Abbey Wood, mad after Afy Hallijohn? He didn't call himself Levison then." Mr.
Jiffin had not seen Afy for some days had never been able to come across her since the trial at Lynneborough. Every evening had he danced attendance at her lodgings, but could not get admitted. "Not at home not at home," was the invariable answer, though Afy might be sunning herself at the window in his very sight. Mr.