And my gown spoilt, and such a bonnet!' 'Who was the somebody ?' 'He's a Mr.Nicholas Frim, sir.' 'Mr.Nicholas Frim will be very unhappy, I should think.' 'Yes, that's one comfort,' said Polly ruefully, drying her eyes.
Closely surrounding a young man as a young woman must be when both are on the same horse, they, as a rule, talk confidentially together in a very short time.

His 'Are you cold ?' when Polly shivered, and her 'Oh, no; not very,' and a slight screwing of her body up to him, as she spoke, to assure him and herself of it, soon made them intimate.
'I think Mr.Nicholas Frim mustn't see us riding into Beckley,' said Evan.
'Oh, my gracious! Ought I to get down, sir ?' Polly made no move, however.
'Is he jealous ?' 'Only when I make him, he is.' 'That's very naughty of you.' 'Yes, I know it is--all the Wheedles are.

Mother says, we never go right till we 've once got in a pickle.' 'You ought to go right from this hour,' said Evan.
'It's 'dizenzy--[?
?
D.W.]--does it,' said Polly.

'And then we're ashamed to show it.

My poor Susan went to stay with her aunt at Bodley, and then at our cousin's at Hillford, and then she was off to Lymport to drown her poor self, I do believe, when you met her.