y, fancy, he used to shave himself, but now his
razor's broke, he says he doesn't care to buy one, the bloke."
Jacques heard a clock strike. "I must make haste to finish this," he
said, "then I'll put on my togs and go home; my missus'l jaw if I'm
not in time for the grub."
"Good-night, then," said Frank.
"Good-night, Sir," shouted Jacques.--"Whog back old mare--steady!"
Frank heard him say as he walked away.
Going home, he wrapped himself up in deep thought. The way which
seemed clear yesterday, was now full of obstacles. Mr. Rougeant was
rich; judging from his demeanour he had probably already chosen his
daughter a husband--would that she were poor.
He looked to see what redeeming feature he could find on his side.
None. He had never felt so little as he now did.
CHAPTER VIII.
AN UNPLEASANT VISIT.
When Adele came back from shutting the door after Frank, her father
looked at her with a hard, scrutinizing gaze, but did not say a
word.
It was just like him. He very rarely spoke when he was angry; he
would mope about for whole days, his face covered with innumerable
wrinkles.
This anger on her father's part did not pain Adele so much as it had
formerly done. Her heart revolted at the thought of being always
made to bend under her father's stern will.
Like the terror-stricken few who would do battle for their rights,
but are awed by countless numbers, Adele had up to this time quietly
submitted to her father's iron rule; but now she felt inclined to
rebel.
Accordingly, instead of trying to coax her father into wearing his
ordinary face, which was none too pleasant, she pouted.
The old man noticed this and chuckled to himself: "Ah, ah, you think
a great deal of this young fellow. I'll teach you to keep up the
honour of the family."
He was so delighted at the prospect of an easy victory that he did
not sulk nearly as long as usual, but, to the young girl's
astonishment, was quite talkative the next day.
"Your aunt asked me if you would go and take tea with her
to-morrow," he said when they were at dinner.
Adele did not answer.
Heedless of her silence, her father went on: "You must go, because
you do not go often."
The daughter answered: "No, I do not go often." She thought: "Often
enough," for she did not at all relish the idea of a visit to her
aunt.
The inmates of the "Prenoms" did not please her. There was her
uncle, Mr. Soher, morose and stern. He was one of this class
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