I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. But I’d have done it without, though it weren’t my place. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good. She rang again with the same result. And I don’t. He’s the handle of life for you. Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church.
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