"What!" said Maryanne. "This next first of June as ever is? I'll do
no such thing."

"Why not, my own one?"

"I never heard the like! Where am I to get my things? And you will
have no house taken or anything. If you think I'm going into lodgings
like Sarah Jane, you're mistook. I don't marry unless I have things
comfortable about me,--furniture, and all that. While you were in
your tantrums, George, I once went to see William Brisket's house."

"---- William Brisket!" said Robinson. Perhaps, he was wrong in using
such a phrase, but it must be confessed that he was sorely tried. Who
but a harpy would have alluded to the comforts of a rival's domestic
establishment at such a moment as that? Maryanne Brown was a harpy,
and is a harpy to this day.

"There, father," said she, "look at that! just listen to him! You
wouldn't believe me before. What's a young woman to look for with
a man as can go on like that?--cursing and swearing before one's
face,--quite awful!"

"He was aggravated, Maryanne," said the old man.

"Yes, and he'll always be being aggravated. If he thinks as I ain't
going to speak civil of them as has always spoke civil to me, he's in
the wrong of it. William Brisket never went about cursing at me in
that way."

"I didn't curse at you, Maryanne."

"If William Brisket had anything to say of a rival, he said it out
honest. 'Maryanne,' said he to me once, 'if that young man comes
after you any more, I'll polish his head off his shoulders.' Now,
that was speaking manly; and, if you could behave like that, you'd
get yourself respected. But as for them rampagious Billingsgate ways
before a lady, I for one haven't been used to it, and I won't put up
with it!" And so she bounced out of the room.

"You shouldn't have swore at her, George," said Mr. Brown.

"Swear at her!" said Robinson, putting his hand up to his head,
as though he found it almost impossible to collect his scattered
thoughts. "But it doesn't matter. The world may swear at her for me
now; and the world will swear at her!" So saying, he left the house,
went hastily down Snow Hill, and again walked moodily on the bridge
of Blackfriars. "'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished," said
he: "--devoutly!--devoutly! And when they take me up,--up to her,
would it be loving, or would it be loathing?--A nasty, cold, moist,
unpleasant body!" he went on. "Ah me! it would be loathing! He
hadn't a father; he hadn't a mother; he hadn't a sister; he hadn