human
Diary, was of that precise age. Sir Charles might be borne with good-naturedly for a short time as an old gentleman who had become garrulous from want of contradiction, but in any other aspect he would be shunned conscientiously. Yet Richardson is not content with putting into his mouth lengthy discourses tending chiefly, though expressed with mock humility, to his own glorification; but he keeps all the other characters perpetually dancing round the Baronet in a chorus of praise.
gpt
Was there ever such a man, my Harriet, so good, so just, so noble in his sentiments?
human
Ah, my Lucy, dare I hope for the affection of the best of men?
gpt
her grandmother. It is a mammoth posing as a kitten, though whatever he says or does, his audience throw up their hands and eyes and ask:
human
Was there ever such a man?
gpt
Thank Heaven, _never_!
human
all his female acquaintances. He is eternally taking their hands, putting his arm round their waists, leading them up and down, and permitting himself liberties that in a less perfect character would be considered intolerable. It is also interesting to note that he never addresses any of his female friends without the prefix
gpt
human
My Harriet,
gpt