Lucy cried a little and took a feminine
spite against his rivals, who remained to pester her. Now Talboys,
spurred by uncle, had often all but popped; only some let, hindrance, or
just impediment had still interposed: once her pony kept prancing at each
effort he made towards Hymen; they do say the subtle virgin kept probing
the brute with a hair pin, and made him caracole and spill the treacle as
fast as it came her way. However, now Talboys elected to pop by sea. It
was the element his ancestors had invaded fair England by; and on its
tranquil bosom a lover is safe from prancing steeds, and the myriad
anti-pops of _terra firma._ Miss Lucy consented to the water excursion
demurely, designing to bring her sickly wooer to the point and so get rid
of him for ever and ever. Plot and counter-plot were baffled by the
elements: there came an anti-pop out of the south-west called a gale.
Talboys boated so skilfully that he and his intended would have been
united without ceremony by Father Nep, at the bottom of the British
Channel, but for David Dodd, who was hovering near in jealous anguish and
a cutter.
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