Do you remember--what should I do to you,
by the way, if you didn't?--that when your head is on my shoulder,
my chin just makes a little roof for your curls, so that you always
used to say, "How nicely we _fit_!" Well, there is just about the
same difference between Gabriel and me, as between me and you. I
call that very nice.
Now, as to the rest of the world. My two old dears are very sweet to
me, and to Gabriel also. Indeed, every one is pleasant to us, and if
it does come to my ears that I am looked upon by Graysmill generally
in the light of a harmless lunatic, why, what of that? I take joy in
the thought that none but myself knows the value of the treasure
that is mine. One good soul said to me yesterday: "We think it very
nice of you, very nice and modest. Such a rich young lady as you
are, you might have had any one you pleased!"
We went on Sunday to pay a formal visit to Uncle George. That was a
terrible ordeal, but we got some fun out of it.
I went to fetch Gabriel, for Uncle George lives just beyond
Miltonhoe. I found him in the study, sitting with his head in his
hands, a picture of misery.
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