"Damn what, Edmund?" asked his sister, laughing more than ever. "San Donato or me? or perhaps the little African?"
"How tiresome you are, Maria! I told you that I could not go because I had a headache, and the sun is so awfully strong to-day."
"Of which I believe as much as you do. You were quite well an hour ago. The headache is nothing but a sham. Perhaps you have got some new innamorata; but come: the little African is not so bad after all. She will do once in a way; and you know at first you certainly were a little épris in that quarter."
"For pity's sake, Maria, go to San Donato, and leave me in peace! How teasing women can be! What a happy fellow I am not to have a wife!"
"It strikes me, my dear sir, that you are anything but a happy fellow this morning. Now I am going; but tell me first, what has made you so bearish?"
"If I am bearish, I think the best thing you can do is to get out of my way at once."
"I quite agree with you. You might tear me to pieces if I remained much longer in your den; but I daresay, when this fit has passed over, you will regret that you did not come with us. Indeed, I should not be astonished if you were to follow us, if only for the pleasure such a vain creature would take in seeing the little African's bright eyes look brighter still when you appear."
Mrs. Penton retreated after this sally, but called out from the door—
"Good-bye, dear! I hope some kind fairy will soon transform you back to a man! Shall I send the little African to you? and then you and she could play 'Beauty and the Beast' over again?"