"Bless yer 'art," said Dent, "you don't suppose as I mean to give her
up? Not a bit of it. You keep yourself cool, old man; we'll divide the
money, and I'll have my pretty bride yet. Why, Granger, you can never
see beyond the stone wall you're gazing at; you haven't, so to speak,
no perception at all. Now this don't surprise me, and I'll tell you
why. I knew that Will wanted the gel--ay, and haven't I played him
a trick on that very account?--and anyone could see with half an eye
that she wanted him; and what more like than that they should make it
up atween them. Yes, but wooing ain't wedding, and there's many a
slip--oh, yes, many and many. Don't you fret, Granger--didn't I tell
you as I had checkmated that low fellow, Scarlett? You won't never be
demeaned by that marriage, my man."
With these words Dent left his companion; he had managed to comfort
him a good deal, and he was certainly by no means depressed himself.
"Nothing could please me better," he muttered. "The thing's moving at
last.
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