This I could in no way imagine Mr. Rawlings doing.
My conception of the hero of my dreams may have varied from time to
time, but never has it included even the smallest of the
characteristics of William Rawlings. He reminds me of nothing so much
as the very shaggiest bear I have ever seen at the Zoo--not even a nice
white Polar bear, but one of those nondescript, snuff-coloured kinds
that are all ragged ends from top to toe. That a man with such a rough
exterior could be capable of such sickening sentimentality as Elizabeth
had just described quite nauseated me. It made me dislike him more, if
possible, than I had done before.
'Remember, Elizabeth,' I said, looking at her steadily, 'you must not
repeat a word of this to any one. Mr. Rawlings must never know that he
has been discovered in this----'
'Well, 'e knows that _I_ know,' she interrupted.
I stared. 'What do you mean?'
'You see, me bein' in the room when 'e was a-kissin' of your fotograft,
'e looks up an' sees me afore I could get away, quiet, like. "Good
lor', Elizabeth," 'e breaks out, "you don't mean to tell me that you
sor everything, that you 'eard my 'eart strings burstin' in a manner of
speakin'."
'"I'm afraid I did, sir," ses I, "I was just comin' in to dust an' your
sighs bein' rather loud, I couldn't 'elp overhearing."
'"Listen," 'e ses, goin' ashy pale, "you must never tell 'er. I will
win 'er in my own way," 'e ses.
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