I held up my precious book before him; I rapped the open page
impressively with my forefinger. "Not my words!" I exclaimed, in a burst
of fervent interruption. "Oh, don't suppose that I claim attention for
My humble words! Manna in the wilderness, Mr. Ablewhite! Dew on the
parched earth! Words of comfort, words of wisdom, words of love--the
blessed, blessed, blessed words of Miss Jane Ann Stamper!"
I was stopped there by a momentary impediment of the breath. Before I
could recover myself, this monster in human form shouted out furiously,
"Miss Jane Ann Stamper be----!"
It is impossible for me to write the awful word, which is here
represented by a blank. I shrieked as it passed his lips; I flew to my
little bag on the side table; I shook out all my tracts; I seized the
one particular tract on profane swearing, entitled, "Hush, for Heaven's
Sake!"; I handed it to him with an expression of agonised entreaty. He
tore it in two, and threw it back at me across the table. The rest of
them rose in alarm, not knowing what might happen next. I instantly sat
down again in my corner. There had once been an occasion, under somewhat
similar circumstances, when Miss Jane Ann Stamper had been taken by
the two shoulders and turned out of a room.
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