How to write a manuscript online to make money?

How to write a manuscript online to make money?

Moody looked at Isabel. It was only a momentary glance, but she perfectly understood it.

“I am afraid, sir, my aunt cannot have the honor of seeing you to-day,” she said.

Hardyman was all compliance. He smiled and patted his horse’s neck. “To-morrow, then,” he said. “My compliments, and I will call in the afternoon. Let me see: Miss Pink lives at —?” He waited, as if he expected Isabel to assist his treacherous memory once more. She hesitated again. Hardyman looked round at his groom. The groom could find out the address, even if he did not happen to know it already. Besides, there was the little row of houses visible at the further end of the road. Isabel pointed to the villas, as a necessary concession to good manners, before the groom could anticipate her. “My aunt lives there, sir; at the house called The Lawn.”

“Ah! to be sure!” said Hardyman. “I oughtn’t to have wanted reminding; but I have so many things to think of at the farm. And I am afraid I must be getting old — my memory isn’t as good as it was. I am so glad to have seen you, Miss Isabel. You and your aunt must come and look at my horses. Do you like horses? Are you fond of riding? I have a quiet roan mare that is used to carrying ladies; she would be just the thing for you. Did I beg you to give my best compliments to your aunt? Yes? How well you are looking! our air here agrees with you. I hope I haven’t kept you standing too long? I didn’t think of it in the pleasure of meeting you. Good-by, Miss Isabel; good-by, till to-morrow!”

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He took off his hat to Isabel, nodded to Moody, and pursued his way to the farm.

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Isabel looked at her companion. His eyes were still on the ground. Pale, silent, motionless, he waited by her like a dog, until she gave the signal of walking on again towards the house.

“You are not angry with me for speaking to Mr. Hardyman?” she asked, anxiously.

He lifted his head it the sound of her voice. “Angry with you, my dear! why should I be angry?”

“You seem so changed, Robert, since we met Mr. Hardyman. I couldn’t help speaking to him — could I?”

“Certainly not.”

They moved on towards the villa. Isabel was still uneasy. There was something in Moody’s silent submission to all that she said and all that she did which pained and humiliated her. “You’re not jealous?” she said, smiling timidly.

He tried to speak lightly on his side. “I have no time to be jealous while I have your affairs to look after,” he answered.

She pressed his arm tenderly. “Never fear, Robert, that new friends will make me forget the best and dearest friend who is now at my side.” She paused, and looked up at him with a compassionate fondness that was very pretty to see. “I can keep out of the way to-morrow, when Mr. Hardyman calls,” she said. “It is my aunt he is coming to see — not me.”

It was generously meant. But while her mind was only occupied with the present time, Moody’s mind was looking into the future. He was learning the hard lesson of self-sacrifice already. “Do what you think is right,” he said quietly; “don’t think of me.”

They reached the gate of the villa. He held out his hand to say good-by.

“Won’t you come in?” she asked. “Do come in!”

“Not now, my dear. I must get back to London as soon as I can. There is some more work to be done for you, and the sooner I do it the better.”

She heard his excuse without heeding it.