I don't know what Sir Thomas may think of such matters; he may be too much of the courtier and fine gentleman to like his daughter the less.

But, by G--! if she belonged to _me_, I'd give her the rope's end as long as I could stand over her.

A little flogging for man and woman too would be the best way of preventing such things." Fanny read to herself that "it was with infinite concern the newspaper had to announce to the world a matrimonial _fracas_ in the family of Mr.R.of Wimpole Street; the beautiful Mrs.R., whose name had not long been enrolled in the lists of Hymen, and who had promised to become so brilliant a leader in the fashionable world, having quitted her husband's roof in company with the well-known and captivating Mr.C., the intimate friend and associate of Mr.R., and it was not known even to the editor of the newspaper whither they were gone." "It is a mistake, sir," said Fanny instantly; "it must be a mistake, it cannot be true; it must mean some other people." She spoke from the instinctive wish of delaying shame; she spoke with a resolution which sprung from despair, for she spoke what she did not, could not believe herself.

It had been the shock of conviction as she read.

The truth rushed on her; and how she could have spoken at all, how she could even have breathed, was afterwards matter of wonder to herself.
Mr.Price cared too little about the report to make her much answer.
"It might be all a lie," he acknowledged; "but so many fine ladies were going to the devil nowadays that way, that there was no answering for anybody." "Indeed, I hope it is not true," said Mrs.Price plaintively; "it would be so very shocking! If I have spoken once to Rebecca about that carpet, I am sure I have spoke at least a dozen times; have not I, Betsey?
And it would not be ten minutes' work." The horror of a mind like Fanny's, as it received the conviction of such guilt, and began to take in some part of the misery that must ensue, can hardly be described.