"I may have done."
"Oh, Leo, you don't really love me. You say you do, but you don't."
Nothing on earth is more wearying than an injured and protesting lover. Better never to have been loved at all than to suffer such persecution.
"My dear boy, what do you want me to do?" she sighed.
"Be as you were three days ago—before——"
"Before what?"
"Before that man came down," Denis ejaculated with the hoarseness of rage.
She smiled, and there was a suggestion of triumph in the glint of her large canines.
"He's cured Cleo, any way," she said.
"A nice cure! The heat becomes too intense for somebody, a quack is called down, the weather cools, as it did twenty-four hours afterwards, and the quack gets the credit."