"Yes; I know I look it," said O'Higgins, amiably. ‘No, for you had your own selfish plans already made, that is now seen. The tide'll bring him to us fast enough. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. I knew it. . ‘Come on. I have established a fine trade. On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad roof, immediately in front of him. Would that a certain major might cast upon her such a look. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Very well.
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