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Thus the repast, which at length came off, instead of being
dismal, was an exceedingly brisk and merry one. The excite-
ment of the campaign counteracted in George’s mind the
depression occasioned by the disinheriting letter. Dobbin
still kept up his character of rattle. He amused the company
with accounts of the army in Belgium; where nothing but
fetes and gaiety and fashion were going on. Then, having a
particular end in view, this dexterous captain proceeded to
describe Mrs. Major O’Dowd packing her own and her Ma-
jor’s wardrobe, and how his best epaulets had been stowed
into a tea canister, whilst her own famous yellow turban,
with the bird of paradise wrapped in brown paper, was
locked up in the Major’s tin cocked-hat case, and wondered
what effect it would have at the French king’s court at Gh-
ent, or the great military balls at Brussels.
‘Ghent! Brussels!’ cried out Amelia with a sudden shock
and start. ‘Is the regiment ordered away, George—is it or-
dered away?’ A look of terror came over the sweet smiling
face, and she clung to George as by an instinct.
‘Don’t be afraid, dear,’ he said good-naturedly; ‘it is but
a twelve hours’ passage. It won’t hurt you. You shall go, too,
Emmy.’
‘I intend to go,’ said Becky. ‘I’m on the staff. General Tuf-
to is a great flirt of mine. Isn’t he, Rawdon?’ Rawdon laughed
out with his usual roar. William Dobbin flushed up quite
red. ‘She can’t go,’ he said; ‘think of the—of the danger,’ he
was going to add; but had not all his conversation during
dinner-time tended to prove there was none? He became
very confused and silent.
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