'If I didn't tell her I loved her, where would be the use of my being in
love?' said Martin: 'unless to keep myself in a perpetual state of worry
and vexation?'

'That's true,' Tom answered. 'Well! I can guess what SHE said when you
told her,' he added, glancing at Martin's handsome face.

'Why, not exactly, Pinch,' he rejoined, with a slight frown; 'because
she has some girlish notions about duty and gratitude, and all the rest
of it, which are rather hard to fathom; but in the main you are right.
Her heart was mine, I found.'

'Just what I supposed,' said Tom. 'Quite natural!' and, in his great
satisfaction, he took a long sip out of his wine-glass.

'Although I had conducted myself from the first with the utmost
circumspection,' pursued Martin, 'I had not managed matters so well but
that my grandfather, who is full of jealousy and distrust, suspected me
of loving her. He said nothing to her, but straightway attacked me
in private, and charged me with designing to corrupt the fidelity to
himself (there you observe his selfishness), of a young creature whom
he had trained and educated to be his only disinterested and faithful
companion, when he should have disposed of me in marriage to his heart's
content. Upon that, I took fire immediately, and told him that with his
good leave I would dispose of myself in marriage, and would rather
not be knocked down by him or any other auctioneer to any bidder
whomsoever.'

Mr Pinch opened his eyes wider, and looked at the fire harder than he
had done yet.