Them filberts is beautiful." "And there will be no noses pulled, Cos, my boy?
I'm sorry you're baulked," said Mr.Bows.
"Dad, I suppose not," said Cos, rubbing his own.--"What'll ye do about them letters, and verses, and pomes, Milly, darling ?--Ye must send 'em back." "Wigsby would give a hundred pound for 'em," Bows said, with a sneer.
"'Deed, then, he would," said Captain Costigan, who was easily led.
"Papa!" said Miss Milly.--"Ye wouldn't be for not sending the poor boy his letters back?
Them letters and pomes is mine.

They were very long, and full of all sorts of nonsense, and Latin, and things I couldn't understand the half of; indeed I've not read 'em all; but we'll send 'em back to him when the proper time comes." And going to a drawer, Miss Fotheringay took out from it a number of the County Chronicle and Chatteris Champion, in which Pen had written a copy of flaming verses celebrating her appearance in the character of Imogen, and putting by the leaf upon which the poem appeared (for, like ladies of her profession, she kept the favourable printed notices of her performances), she wrapped up Pen's letters, poems, passions, and fancies, and tied them with a piece of string neatly, as she would a parcel of sugar.
Nor was she in the least moved while performing this act.

What hours the boy had passed over those papers! What love and longing: what generous faith and manly devotion--what watchful nights and lonely fevers might they tell of! She tied them up like so much grocery, and sate down and made tea afterwards with a perfectly placid and contented heart: while Pen was yearning after her ten miles off: and hugging her image to his soul..