"You are dull enough at mine. I believe you hate me."
"Not you—only your vices. I do hate them."
"'Twould be much more becoming if you set yourself to cure them. Come, let's strike a balance with the twenty pounds, and be friends."
She gave a sigh of resignation. "I have about that sum here for household expenses. If you must have it, take it."
"Very good. Thank you. I expect I shall have gone away before you are in to breakfast to-morrow."
"And must you go? Ah! there was a time, Frank, when it would have taken a good many promises to other people to drag you away from me. You used to call me darling, then. But it doesn't matter to you how my days are passed now."
"I must go, in spite of sentiment." Troy, as he spoke, looked at his watch, and, apparently actuated by non lucendo principles, opened the case at the back, revealing, snugly stowed within it, a small coil of hair.
Bathsheba's eyes had been accidentally lifted at that moment, and she saw the action, and saw the hair. She flushed in pain and surprise, and some words escaped her before she had thought whether or not it was wise to utter them.
