She was really sick, but her air and attitude was that of a person suffering an extremity of physical anguish.

The squire looked at her and then at Charlotte with dismay and self-reproach.
"Harry wants five hundred pounds, Sophia." "I am astonished he does not want five thousand pounds.

Father, I would not send him a sovereign of it.

Julius told me about his carryings-on." She could hardly have said any words so favorable to Harry's cause.

The squire was on the defensive for his own side in a moment.
"What has Julius to do with it ?" he cried.