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get to the bottom of this villainy before I rest.—O, this world of knaves and fools! why was my lot cast in it?—But, being so cast, shall I become quietly the prey of cunning and deceit? May I not use similar weapons in self-defence?—No, no! let her go: fortune was not my object; and if she is fool enough to believe him, she is worthy of such a mate.—Yet it makes me distracted. Oh, this perversity of mind! She is fickle, she is foolish, she is fanciful, she is capricious, and her very faults endear her to my unaccountable feelings.—He shall not have her.—His filthy fingers sprawling over my head for such a villainous purpose: it is abominable.—If deceit will not serve me, force shall.

What brings you here, Marmalade?

La, Sir! nothing bad, I'm sure. If she waits at the back garden gate, it is for no bad purpose, I'm sure.

Who waits there? Tell me plainly, and in few words.

Lord a' mercy! why should I make many words about it? She has done it very badly,