Her being a fool argues that I was one in making a fool's choice.

So, she jilts me, and I get a pistol, or I get a neat bit of rope, or I take a clean header with a cannon-ball at my heels, or I go to the chemist's and ask for stuff to poison rats,--anything a fool'd do under the circumstances, it don't matter what." Old Anthony waited for Rhoda to jump over a stile, and said to her,-- "He laughs at the whole lot of ye." "Who ?" she asked, with betraying cheeks.
"This Mr.Robert Armstrong of yours." "Of mine, uncle!" "He don't seem to care a snap o' the finger for any of ye." "Then, none of us must care for him, uncle." "Now, just the contrary.

That always shows a young fellow who's attending to his business.

If he'd seen you boil potatoes, make dumplings, beds, tea, all that, you'd have had a chance.

He'd have marched up to ye before you was off to London." "Saying, 'You are the woman.'" Rhoda was too desperately tickled by the idea to refrain from uttering it, though she was angry, and suffering internal discontent.