3 was somewhat more confidential, and showed that matters had proceeded rather far.

You were odious yesterday night, the letter said.
Why did you not come to the stage-door?
Papa could not escort me on account of his eye; he had an accident, and fell down over a loose carpet on the stair on Sunday night.

I saw you looking at Miss Diggle all night; and you were so enchanted with Lydia Languish you scarcely once looked at Julia.

I could have crushed Bingley, I was so angry.
I play Ella Rosenberg on Friday: will you come then?
Miss Diggle performs--ever your E.F.
These three letters Mr.Pen used to read at intervals, during the day and night, and embrace with that delight and fervour which such beautiful compositions surely warranted.

A thousand times at least he had kissed fondly the musky satin paper, made sacred to him by the hand of Emily Fotheringay.