"Softly, sir," said she, eluding him. "Let us to business."
*****
SCENE XV
"But you must understand," said the lady, "that you carry me off against my will."
"To be sure," said he. "Isn't poor Denis O'Hara to run away with you merely to save your reputation?"
"So if I scream, sir, and give you a scratch or two, you will bear me no malice?"
"Bear you malice, is it?" said he, stopping to kiss each finger-tip of the hand which he contrived somehow should never be long out of his clasp. "Me darling, sure, won't I love to feel your little pearls of nails on my cheek?"
"And spare no expense upon chaise or horses," said she.
"Eh?" cried Mr. O'Hara, while a certain vagueness crept into his gaze. "Me dear love, the best that money can produce—that money can produce," said Mr. O'Hara, and his eye rolled under the stress and strain of an inward calculation: ("There's my grandfather's watch; I'm afeared the works are not up to the gold case, but it might run to four guineas. And there's my jewelled snuff-box that the Chevalier gave my father—no dash it, that's gone! There's my silver-hilted sword—I could exchange it for a black one and perhaps five guineas. And there's my three sets of Mechlin...")