Then again, the Captain (though a truly dear soul,
and the most gallant of hosts) treats me very much as
though I were a ship, and, beside, he is so dreadfully
gentle.
As for Cleone, dear bird, she yawns until my own
eyes water (though, indeed, she has very pretty teeth),
and, on the whole, is very dutiful and quarrels with me
whenever I wish. 'T is quite true she cannot play chess;
she also, constantly, revokes at Whist, and is quite as
bad-tempered over it as I am. Cards, I fear, are altogether
beyond her at present,--she is young. Of course time may
change this, but I have grave doubts. In this deplorable
situation I turn to you, dear Mr. Beverley (Cleone knew
your address, it seems), and write these hasty lines to
ntreat,--nay, to command you to come and cheer our solitude.
Cleone has a new gown she is dying to wear, and I have
much that you must patiently listen to, so that I may
truly subscribe myself'
Your grateful friend,
FANNY CAMBERURST.
P.S.--I have seen the finger-post on the London Road.
And now, having made an end of reading, Barnabas sighed and smiled,
and squared his stooping shoulders, and threw up his curly head, and
turning, found the Bo'sun still standing, hat in fist, lost in
contemplation of the gilded ceiling.
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