e be considered as giving consent. "Now,
like a good man, do say that I shall have the ponies," she continued. "I
can keep 'em out of my own money, you know, if that's all." He perceived
at once that the offer amounted to a certain yielding on her part, but
he was no longer anxious that she should give way. "Do'ee now say yes,
like a dear old boy." She came closer to him, and took hold of his arm,
as though she were going to perform that other ceremony. But he was
fully aware of the danger. If there came to be kissing between them it
would be impossible for him to go back afterward in such a manner but
that the blame of the kiss should rest with him. When he should desire
to be "off," he could not plead that the kissing had been all her doing.
A man in Mr. Prosper's position has difficulties among which he must be
very wary. And then the ridicule of the world is so strong a weapon, and
is always used on the side of the women! He gave a little start, but he
did not at once shake her off. "What's the objection to the ponies,
dear?"

"Two pair of horses! It's more than we ought to keep." He should not
have said "we." He felt, when it was too late, that he should not have
said "we."

"They aren't horses."

"It's the same, as far as the stables are concerned."

"But there's room enough, Lord bless you! I've been in to look. I can
assure you that Dr. Stubbs says they are required for my health. You ask
him else. It's just what I'm up to--is driving. I've only taken to them
lately, and I cannot bring myself to give 'em up. Do'ee love. You're not
going to throw over your own Matilda for a couple of little beasts like
that!"

Every word that came out of her mouth was an offence. But he could not
tell her so; nor could he reject her on that score. He should have
thought beforehand what kind of words might probably come out of her
mouth. Was her name Matilda? Of course he knew the fact. Had any one
asked him he could have said, with two minutes' consideration, that her
name was Matilda. But it had never become familiar to his ears, and now
she spoke of it as though he had called her Matilda since their earliest
youth. And to be called "Love!" It might be very nice when he had first
called her "Love" a dozen times; but now it sounded extravagant--and
almost indelicate. And he was about to throw her over for a couple of
little beasts. He felt that that was his intention, and he blushed
because it was so. He was a true gentlema