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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

"After what took place--"
In her turn she ceased: he had said nothing!
"Jealous!" concluded Forgue; "--a good sign!"
"I see he has been talking against me!" he said.
"If you mean Mr. Grant, you mistake. He never, so far as I remember,
once mentioned you to me."
"I know better!"
"You are rude. He never spoke of it; but I have seen enough with my
own eyes--"
"If you mean that silly fancy--why, Arctura!--you know it was but a
boyish folly!"
"And since then you have grown a man!--How many months has it
taken?"
"I assure you, on the word of a gentleman, there is nothing in it
now. It is all over, and I am heartily ashamed of it."
A pause of a few seconds followed: it seemed as many minutes, and
unbearable.
"You will come out with me?" said Forgue: she might be relenting,
though she did not look like it!
"No," she said; "I will not."
"Well," he returned, with simulated coolness, "this is rather
cavalier treatment, I must say!--To throw a man over who has loved
you so long--and for the sake of a lesson in Greek!"
"How long, pray, have you loved me?" said Arctura, growing angry. "I
was willing to be friendly with you, so much so that I am sorry it
is no longer possible!"
"You punish me pretty sharply, my lady, for a trifle of which I told
you I was ashamed!" said Forgue, biting his lip. "It was the
merest--"
"I do not wish to hear anything about it!" said Arctura sternly.


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