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I never think about him from one hour’s end to another. ‘Lord! here comes your beau, Nancy,’ my cousin said t’other day, when she saw him crossing the street to the house. My beau, indeed! said I—I cannot think who you mean. The Doctor is no beau of mine.”
“Aye, aye, that is very pretty talking—but it won’t do—the Doctor is the man, I see.”
“No, indeed!” replied her cousin, with affected earnestness, “and I beg you will contradict it, if you ever hear it talked of.”
Mrs. Jennings directly gave her the gratifying assurance that she certainly would not, and Miss Steele was made completely happy.
“I suppose you will go and stay with your brother and sister, Miss Dashwood, when they come to town,” said Lucy, returning, after a cessation of hostile hints, to the charge.
