BOOK THE SECOND - REAPING
3. Chapter Iii - the Whelp (continued)
'That's the past tense, Tom,' returned Mr. James Harthouse,
striking the ash from his cigar with his little finger. 'We are in
the present tense, now.'
'Verb neuter, not to care. Indicative mood, present tense. First
person singular, I do not care; second person singular, thou dost
not care; third person singular, she does not care,' returned Tom.
'Good! Very quaint!' said his friend. 'Though you don't mean it.'
'But I do mean it,' cried Tom. 'Upon my honour! Why, you won't
tell me, Mr. Harthouse, that you really suppose my sister Loo does
care for old Bounderby.'
'My dear fellow,' returned the other, 'what am I bound to suppose,
when I find two married people living in harmony and happiness?'
Tom had by this time got both his legs on the sofa. If his second
leg had not been already there when he was called a dear fellow, he
would have put it up at that great stage of the conversation.
Feeling it necessary to do something then, he stretched himself out
at greater length, and, reclining with the back of his head on the
end of the sofa, and smoking with an infinite assumption of
negligence, turned his common face, and not too sober eyes, towards
the face looking down upon him so carelessly yet so potently.
'You know our governor, Mr. Harthouse,' said Tom, 'and therefore,
you needn't be surprised that Loo married old Bounderby. She never
had a lover, and the governor proposed old Bounderby, and she took
him.'
'Very dutiful in your interesting sister,' said Mr. James
Harthouse.
'Yes, but she wouldn't have been as dutiful, and it would not have
come off as easily,' returned the whelp, 'if it hadn't been for
me.'
The tempter merely lifted his eyebrows; but the whelp was obliged
to go on.
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