‘Sarah, my dear,’ returned Sampson, rubbing his hands feebly; ‘you disturb our friends. Besides you—you’re disappointed, Sarah, and, not knowing what you say, expose yourself.’
‘Yes, you pitiful dastard,’ retorted the lovely damsel, ‘I understand you. You feared that I should be beforehand with you. But do you think that I would have been enticed to say a word! I’d have scorned it, if they had tried and tempted me for twenty years.’
‘He he!’ simpered Brass, who, in his deep debasement, really seemed to have changed sexes with his sister, and to have made over to her any spark of manliness he might have possessed. ‘You think so, Sarah, you think so perhaps; but you would have acted quite different, my good fellow. You will not have forgotten that it was a maxim with Foxey—our revered fath
