“It is all right, you know. He apologized profusely.”
“How did you make him do that?”
“I told him the truth, including the fact of his own despicableness.”
“And he believed it?”
“I helped him to the belief by a pretty thorough thrashing.”
“Oh!” cried Hilda.
“He deserved it, dear.”
“But—I had exposed myself to it; he thought himself justified.”
“I had to disabuse him of that thought. He bawled out something like a challenge under the salutary lesson, but when I promptly seconded the suggestion—insisted on the extreme satisfaction it would give me to have a shot at him—the bourgeois strain came out. He fairly whined. I was disappointed. I had bloodthirsty desires.”
“Oh, I am very glad he whined then! Don’t speak of such horrors. You know I am hysterical.”