What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. "I mean to have no one but yourself in it. You're rich. Daughters were in the air that day. Sir John was not used to such glances, and he liked them. "To the world's end," answered Jack, darting after him. And here, we may be permitted to offer an observation upon the peculiar and unaccountable influence which ladies of a shrewish turn so frequently exercise over—we can scarcely, in this case, say—their lords and masters; an influence which seems not merely to extend to the will of the husband, but even to his inclinations. While Jonathan was conversing with Austin, from whom he took care to conceal the fact of his having seen Sheppard since his escape, Ireton entered the Lodge.
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