'It took Forest and me three good hours this morning to take down as fine a barricade as ever I saw put up.

I'm stiff with it still.

British liberties have been thrown to the dogs--[Greek: gynaikos houneka]--all because of a woman! And there you sit, as though nothing had happened! Yet I chanced to see you just now, coming back with Pamela!' Elizabeth's flush this time dyed her all crimson.

She sat, pen in hand, staring at her employer.
'I don't understand what you mean, Mr.Mannering.' At which her conscience whispered to her sharply, 'You guessed it already--in the park!' The Squire jumped to his feet, and came to stand excitedly in front of her, his hands thrust into the high pockets of his waistcoat.
'I am _extremely_ sorry!' he said, with that _grand seigneur_ politeness he could put on when he chose--'but I am not able to credit that statement.

You make it honestly, of course, but that a person of your intelligence, when you saw those gates, failed to put two and two together, well!'-- the Squire shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders, became, in fact, one protesting gesture--'if you ask me to believe it,' he continued, witheringly, 'I suppose I must, but--' 'Mr.Mannering!' said Elizabeth earnestly, 'it would really be kind of you to explain.' Her blush had died away.