"I am nothing of the sort! I'm a perfect bear!" he growled.
"Not inconsistent with my former observation that you were better than
usual," observed Roundjacket, with an agreeable smile. "I can prove to
you quite readily that--"
"You are a ninny--I have no doubt of it--if I would listen to your
wretched jabber! Enough! if you talk any more I'll go home again. A
fine state of things, truly--that I am to have my mind dissipated when
I'm in working trim by the nonsense of a crack-brained poet!"
Roundjacket's indignation at this unfeeling allusion to his great poem
was so intense, that for the moment he was completely deprived of
utterance.
"And as for you, young man," said Mr. Rushton, smiling grimly at
Verty, "I suppose you are following the ordinary course of foolish
young men, and falling in love! Mark me, sir! the man that falls in
love makes a confounded fool of himself--you had better at once go
and hang yourself. Pretty people you are, with your 'eyes' and
'sighs'--your 'loves' and 'doves'--your moonlight, and flowers and
ecstacies! Avoid it, sir! it's like honey-water--it catches the legs
of flies like you, and holds you tight.
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