“Half the women in London have petitioned against you.”
“Have they, really?” cried Dolly, to all appearance rather delighted. “What do they say, Mr. Rhadamanthus? Is it in that book? Let me look.” And she held out her hand.
“The book’s too heavy for you to hold,” said he.
“I’ll come round,” said Dolly. So she went round and leant over his shoulder and read the book.
“What’s that scent you’ve got on?” asked Rhadamanthus.
“Bouquet du diable,” said she. (I had never heard of the perfume before.) “Isn’t it sweet?”
“I haven’t smelt it since I was a boy,” sighed Rhadamanthus.
“Poor old thing,” said Dolly. “I’m not going to read all this, you know.” And, with a somewhat contemptuous smile, she walked back to her chair. “They ought to be ashamed of themselves,” she added, as she sat down. “It’s just because I’m not a fright.”
“Aren’t you a fright?” asked Rhadamanthus. “Where are my spectacles?”
He put them on and looked at Dolly.