and I know not what; he was so abominably in earnest, that I found myself forced to do a little bit of the melodramatic⁠—go down on my knees, sob, cry, drench three pocket-handkerchiefs. Of course,

mon oncle

soon gave in; indeed, where was the use of making a fuss? I am married, and that’s all about it. He still says our marriage is not legal, because I am not of age, forsooth! As if that made any difference! I am just as much married as if I were a hundred. However, we are to be married again, and I am to have a trousseau, and

Mrs.