Mary Thorne and I can return together." There was something in the tone in which the words, "Mary Thorne," were uttered, which made Mary at once draw herself up.

"I hope," said she, "that Mary Thorne will never be any hindrance to either of you." Frank's ear had also perceived that there was something in the tone of his sister's voice not boding comfort to Mary; he perceived that the de Courcy blood in Augusta's veins was already rebelling against the doctor's niece on his part, though it had condescended to submit itself to the tailor's son on her own part.
"Well, I am going," said he; "but look here Augusta, if you say one word of Mary--" Oh, Frank! Frank! you boy, you very boy! you goose, you silly goose! Is that the way you make love, desiring one girl not to tell of another, as though you were three children, tearing your frocks and trousers in getting through the same hedge together?
Oh, Frank! Frank! you, the full-blown heir of Greshamsbury?
You, a man already endowed with a man's discretion?
You, the forward rider, that did but now threaten young Harry Baker and the Honourable John to eclipse them by prowess in the field?
You, of age?
Why, thou canst not as yet have left thy mother's apron-string! "If you say one word of Mary--" So far had he got in his injunction to his sister, but further than that, in such a case, was he never destined to proceed.

Mary's indignation flashed upon him, striking him dumb long before the sound of her voice reached his ears; and yet she spoke as quick as the words would come to her call, and somewhat loudly too.
"Say one word of Mary, Mr Gresham! And why should she not say as many words of Mary as she may please?
I must tell you all now, Augusta! and I must also beg you not to be silent for my sake.

As far as I am concerned, tell it to whom you please.

This was the second time your brother--" "Mary, Mary," said Frank, deprecating her loquacity.
"I beg your pardon, Mr Gresham; you have made it necessary that I should tell your sister all.