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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"The Mystery of Edwin Drood"

And then we should be angry, besides.'
Another silence fell upon them.
'And you know,' said Rosa innocently, 'you couldn't like me then;
and you can always like me now, for I shall not be a drag upon you,
or a worry to you. And I can always like you now, and your sister
will not tease or trifle with you. I often did when I was not your
sister, and I beg your pardon for it.'
'Don't let us come to that, Rosa; or I shall want more pardoning
than I like to think of.'
'No, indeed, Eddy; you are too hard, my generous boy, upon
yourself. Let us sit down, brother, on these ruins, and let me
tell you how it was with us. I think I know, for I have considered
about it very much since you were here last time. You liked me,
didn't you? You thought I was a nice little thing?'
'Everybody thinks that, Rosa.'
'Do they?' She knitted her brow musingly for a moment, and then
flashed out with the bright little induction: 'Well, but say they
do. Surely it was not enough that you should think of me only as
other people did; now, was it?'
The point was not to be got over. It was not enough.
'And that is just what I mean; that is just how it was with us,'
said Rosa. 'You liked me very well, and you had grown used to me,
and had grown used to the idea of our being married. You accepted
the situation as an inevitable kind of thing, didn't you? It was
to be, you thought, and why discuss or dispute it?'
It was new and strange to him to have himself presented to himself
so clearly, in a glass of her holding up.


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