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Rh 'A bore! Mary, to me?'

'Yes, Mr. Gresham, a bore to you. Having to walk home through the mud with village young ladies is boring. All gentlemen feel it to be so.'

'There is no mud; if there were you would not be allowed to walk at all.'

'Oh! village young ladies never care for such things, though fashionable gentlemen do.'

'I would carry you home, Mary, if it would do you a service,' said Frank, with considerable pathos in his voice.

'Oh, dear me! pray do not, Mr. Gresham. I should not like it at all,' said she: 'a wheelbarrow would be preferable to that.'

'Of course. Anything would be preferable to my arm, I know.'

'Certainly; anything in the way of a conveyance. If I were to act baby, and you were to act nurse, it really would not be comfortable for either of us.'

Frank Gresham felt disconcerted, though he hardly knew why. He was striving to say something tender to his lady-love; but every word that he spoke she turned into joke. Mary did not answer him coldly or unkindly; but, nevertheless, he was displeased. One does not like to have one's little offerings of sentimental service turned into burlesque when one is in love in earnest. Mary's jokes had appeared so easy too; they seemed to come from a heart so little troubled. This, also, was cause of vexation to Frank. If he could but have known all, he would, perhaps, have been better pleased.

He determined not to be absolutely laughed out of his tenderness. When, three days ago, he had been repulsed, he had gone away owning to himself that he had been beaten; owning so much, but owning it with great sorrow and much shame. Since that he had come of age; since that he had made speeches, and speeches had been made to him; since that he had gained courage by flirting with Patience Oriel. No faint heart ever won a fair lady, as he was well aware; he resolved, therefore, that his heart should not be faint, and that he would see whether the fair lady might not be won by becoming audacity.

'Mary,' said he, stopping in the path—for they were now near the spot where it broke out upon the lawn, and they could already hear the voices of the guests—'Mary, you are unkind to me.'

'I am not aware of it, Mr. Gresham; but if I am, do not you retaliate. I am weaker than you, and in your power; do not you, therefore, be unkind to me.'