'Indeed you shall not. I could not
behave myself properly if you did.'
'But I don't want you to behave properly.'
'Oh! I am to keep that for London, am I? But, nevertheless, Captain
Broughton, I will not invite you either to tea or to supper tonight.'
'Surely I may shake hands with your father.'
'Not tonight--not till--. John, I may tell him, may I not? I must tell
him at once.'
'Certainly,' said he.
'And then you shall see him tomorrow. Let me see--at what hour shall I
bid you come?'
'To breakfast.'
'No, indeed. What on earth would your aunt do with her broiled turkey
and the cold pie? I have got no cold pie for you.'
'I hate cold pie.'
'What a pity! But, John, I should be forced to leave you directly after
breakfast. Come down--come down at two, or three; and then I will go
back with you to Aunt Penelope. I must see her tomorrow.' And so at last
the matter was settled, and the happy Captain, as he left her, was
hardly resisted in his attempt to press her lips to his own.
When she entered the parlour in which her father was sitting, there
still were Gribbles and Poulter discussing some knotty point of Devon
lore.
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