ts?

She paused, taking a turn about the room--the fellow, devil fetch him, a
mummy all the time:--Then proceeded.

Formerly, indeed, I hoped to be an humble mean of reforming him. But,
when I have no such hope, is it right [you are a serious man, Sir] to
make a venture that shall endanger my own morals?

Still silent was the varlet. If my advocate had nothing to say for me,
what hope of carrying my cause?

And now, Sir, what is the result of all?--It is this--that you will
endeavour, if you have that influence over him which a man of your sense
and experience ought to have, to prevail upon him, and that for his own
sake, as well as for mine, to leave me free, to pursue my own destiny.
And of this you may assure him, that I will never be any other man's.

Impossible, Madam! I know that Mr. Lovelace would not hear me with
patience on such a topic. And I do assure you that I have some spirit,
and should not care to take an indignity from him or from any man living.

She paused--then resuming--and think you, Sir, that my uncle will refuse
to receive a letter from me? [How averse, Jack, to concede a tittle in
my favour!]

I know, Madam, as matters are circumstanced, that he would not answer it.
If you please I will carry one down from you.

And will he not pursue his intentions in my favour, nor be himself
reconciled to me, except I am married?

From what your brother gives out, and effects to believe, on Mr.
Lovelace's living with you in the same--

No more, Sir--I am an unhappy creature!

He then re-urged, that it would be in her power instantly, or on the
morrow, to put an end to all her difficulties.

How can that be? said she: the license still to be obtained? The
settlements still to be signed? Miss Howe's answer to my last
unreceived?--And shall I, Sir, be in such a HURRY, as if I thought my
honour in danger if I delayed? Yet marry the man from whom only it can
be endangered!--Unhappy, thrice unhappy Clarissa Harlowe!--In how many
difficulties has one rash step involved thee!--And she turned from him
and wept.

The varlet, by way of comfort, wept too: yet her tears, as he might have
observed, were tears that indicated rather a yielding than a perverse
temper.

There is a sort of stone, thou knowest, so soft in the quarry, that it
may in manner be cut with a knife; but if the opportunity not be taken,
and it is exposed to the air for any time, it will become as hard as
marble, and then with d