Harry had
committed such a sin that no shilling of allowance should evermore be
paid to him. Even at this moment there went through Mr. Prosper's brain
an idea that there might be some unmarried female in England besides
Miss Puffle and Miss Thoroughbung. "Peter Prosper, why don't you answer
like a man, and tell me the honest truth?" He had never before been
called Peter Prosper in his whole life.
"Perhaps you had better let me make a communication by letter," he said.
At that very moment the all but completed epistle was lying on the table
before him, where even her eyes might reach it. In the flurry of the
moment he covered it up.
"Perhaps that is the letter which has taken you so long to write?" she
said.
"It is the letter."
"Then hand it me over, and save yourself the penny stamp." In his
confusion he gave her the letter, and threw himself down on the sofa
while she read it. "You have been very careful in choosing your
language, Mr. Prosper: 'It will be expedient that I should make known to
you the entire truth.' Certainly, Mr. Prosper, certainly. The entire
truth is the best thing,--next to entire beer, my brother would say."
"The horrid vulgar woman!" Mr. Prosper ejaculated to himself. "'There
seems to have been a complete misunderstanding with regard to that
amiable lady, Miss Tickle.
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