But listen to me, dear, about your Morsfield.

I told you he was dangerous.' 'He is not my Morsfield,' said Aminta.
'Beware of his having a tool in Paggy.

He boasts of letters.' 'Mine?
Two: and written to request him to cease writing to me.' 'He stops at nothing.

And, oh, my Simplicity! don't you see you gave him a step in begging him to retire?
Morsfield has lived a good deal among our neighbours, who expound the physiology of women.

He anatomizes us; pulls us to pieces, puts us together, and then animates us with a breath of his "passion"-- sincere upon every occasion, I don't doubt.