like;—and he is thoroughly respectable, you know, Helen, quite a lady's man:—and I think, Grimsby for another: he's a decent, quiet fellow enough—you'll not object to Grimsby?"
"I hate him; but however, if you wish it, I'll try to endure his presence for a while."
"All a prejudice Helen—a mere woman's antipathy."
"No; I have solid grounds for my dislike. And is that all?"
"Why, yes, I think so. Hattersley will be too busy billing and cooing with his bride to have much time to spare for guns and dogs, at present," he replied.—"And that reminds me that I have had several letters from Milicent since her marriage, and that she either is or pretends to be quite reconciled to her lot. She professes to have discovered numberless virtues and perfections in her husband, some of which, I fear, less partial eyes would fail to distinguish, though they sought them carefully with tears; and now that she is accustomed to his loud
