"Oh stop!—you'll make me sick. How can she bear it?"
"I expect she'll not only be able to bear it, but to be very happy. You did not ask me if Mr. Richardson were a good, wise, or amiable man; I could have answered yes, to all these questions—at least so Mary thinks, and I hope she will not find herself mistaken."
"But—miserable creature! how can she think of spending her life there, cooped up with that nasty old man; and no hope of change?"
"He is not old; he's only six or seven and thirty; and she herself is twenty-eight, and as sober as if she were fifty."
"Oh! that's better then—they're well matched; but do they call him the 'worthy vicar?'"
"I don't know; but if they do, I believe he merits the epithet.'"
"Mercy, how shocking! and will she wear a white apron, and make pies and puddings?"
"I don't know about the white apron, but I dare say, she will make pies and puddings, now and then; but that will be no great hardship as she has done it before."
