In this sad moment, the fate of the couple is sealed. We can see ahead for them vistas of a lifetime of nappies, bills and rows, first the overcrowded house and then the empty nest. But Vic can think only of himself, and Ingrid’s tears provoke him to another spasm of disgust:

She’s sobbing away like billy-ho now. The hanky’s out and the waterworks are turned on good and proper. Read the rest of this entry »

A proposal is usually something of a ceremony. A man knows that he has a part to play and must play it in style. Most will look for the occasion or the setting that will enhance their chances, and lend sparkle to the start of the new relationship. They may feel the need to offer, promise, blandish or cajole. They try to sell themselves with a bit of a flourish, or at least to appear an attractive prospect at this great moment.

But others take quite the opposite attitude. They want to cut the cackle and get down to business with the absolute minimum of flummery. No long speeches, moonlight scenes or earth-shaking exchanges for them — the briefer the better is their motto. Just look in any national newspaper on St Valentine’s Day for the annual crop of simple proposals. ‘MARRY ME’ demand the current suitors. It’s impossible to tell from this if they ask in hope or despair, but they certainly ask in the shortest way possible. Read the rest of this entry »

This South-West version of the Hound of the Baskervilles barks and sniffs round him all night. The Major hangs there in mortal dread that any second he will feel a vicious set of canines sink into the seat of his pants. But this is not the only trial. If ever a man suffered . . .

The wind begun to blow bominable cold, and the old bag kep turnip round and swingin so it made me sea-sick as mischief . . . thar I sot with my teeth rattlin like 1 had a ager. I do blieve if I didn’t love Miss Mary so powerful I would of froze to deth; for my hart was the only spot that felt warm, and it didn’t beat more’n two licks a minit, only when I thought how she would be sprised in the mornin, and then it went into a canter. Read the rest of this entry »

Yonder a maid and her wight

Go whispering by,

War’s annals will fade into night

Ere their story die.

It is LOVELY WHEN DUKES FIND their Duchesses. Or any kind of lord or lordling, baron or baronet. But making a magic proposal is not the monopoly of a titled or educated man. The wonders of falling in love and wanting to marry are available to all comers, high and low alike. It’s a real- life drama of dreams come true for every new couple. Read the rest of this entry »

Dobbin has suffered enormously while waiting for this. But now his time has come:

The vessel is in port. He has got the prize he has been trying for all his life. The bird has come in at last. There it is with its head on his shoulder, billing and cooing close up to his heart, with soft outstretched fluttering wings. This is what he has asked for every day and hour for eighteen years. This is what he pined after . . . God bless you, William! — farewell, dear Amelia. Grow green again, tender little plant, round the rugged oak to which you cling! Read the rest of this entry »