Bernard Capes

“ The respite, I admit, was a complete relief to me. I had come to think any atmosphere would be better than that atmosphere of exotic and luxuriant suspicion in which my scepticism of all human motives had been forced of late into a preposterous growth. I wanted to be my young credulous self again; I was ready even to waive the question of the cheque, if only Hawkesby would leave me alone to skimp and deny myself, and recover lost ground thereby. ”

“ Mrs. Hoskins, my landlady, when I rang her up to explain, explained. She had always mistrusted the girl, she said; she wore such small boots. There was an artful hussy hid somewhere behind that print apron. Priscilla, it appeared, had come straight down from her attic that morning and give her notice—not a month's, or a week's, or a day's, if you please; but had just up'd with her nose like a silk pairasole, and walked out of the house as grand as my lady. It was possible, Mrs. Hoskins thought, that a letter she had received by the early post had inspired her to this astonishing decision. ”

“ Mrs. Hoskins looked surprised; but preceded us to the kitchen. There, sure enough, was Priscilla, in a hat with a whole cherry-orchard in it. She blushed and giggled as she rose to greet me.
"A moment," said Hawkesby, as I stuck undecided. "We—my friend here and me—have been wanting to see you, Mrs. Birdekin; very much we have."
Priscilla gaped, dumbfoundered.
"Quite a romance," said Hawkesby, "upon my word—your being hooked like that, I mean, by a letter—and the only one, too, that came by that post, I understand."
"No," said Priscilla; "there were another."
"O, indeed!" said Hawkesby. ”