I would rather write that I hate him.' 'You write, the man is now as nothing to me!' said her father, dashing his finger in a fiery zig-zag along the line for her pen to follow.

'Or else, my girl, you've been playing us a pretty farce!' He strung himself for a mad gallop of wrath, gave her a shudder, and relapsed.

'No, no, you're wiser, you're a better girl than that.

Write it.

I must have it written-here, come! The worst is over; the rest is child's play.