Foker broke out into a sardonic "He, he! Rouncy writes her letters," he
said; "every one of 'em; and since they've quarrelled, she don't know how
the deuce to get on. Miss Rouncy is an uncommon pretty hand, whereas the
old one makes dreadful work of the writing and spelling when Bows ain't
by. Rouncy's been settin' her copies lately--she writes a beautiful hand,
Rouncy does."
"I suppose you know it pretty well," said the Major archly upon which Mr.
Foker winked at him again.
"I would give a great deal to have a specimen of her hand-writing,"
continued Major Pendennis, "I dare say you could give me one."
"No, no, that would be too bad," Foker replied. "Perhaps I oughtn't to
have said as much as I have. Miss F.'s writin' ain't so very bad, I dare
say; only she got Miss R. to write the first letter, and has gone on ever
since. But you mark my word, that till they are friends again the letters
will stop."
"I hope they will never be reconciled," the Major said with great
sincerity; "and I can't tell you how delighted I am to have had the good
fortune of making your acquaintance.
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