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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"A Simpleton"

While
he was putting up the shutters, Phoebe was making love to her pseudo
penitent. "My dear," said she, "trust yourself to me. You don't know all
my love yet; for I have never been your wife, and I would not be your
jade; that is the only thing I ever refused you. Trust yourself to me.
Why, you never found happiness with others; try it with me. It shall
be the best day's work you ever did, going out in the ship with me. You
don't know how happy a loving wife can make her husband. I'll pet you
out there as man was never petted. And besides, it isn't for life; Dick
and me will soon make a fortune out there, and then I'll bring you home,
and see you spend it any way you like but one. Oh, how I love you! do
you love me a little? I worship the ground you walk on. I adore every
hair of your head!" Her noble arm went round his neck in a moment, and
the grandeur of her passion electrified him so far that he kissed her
affectionately, if not quite so warmly as she did him: and so it was all
settled. The maid was discharged that night instead of the morning, and
Reginald was to occupy her bed. Phoebe went up-stairs with her heart
literally on fire, to prepare his sleeping-room, and so Dick and
Reginald had a word.


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