"Neither, thank you."
"Of course you'll stay to dinner?"
"No, indeed. I've a man there at the Cottage with me who would cut his throat in his solitude."
"Let him cut his throat;—but never mind now. As for being happy, women are never happy without men. I needn't tell any lies to you, you know. What makes me sure that this fuss about making men and women all the same must be wrong, is just the fact that men can get along without women, and women can't without men. My life has been a burthen to me. But never mind. Tell me about my lord;—my lord and master."
"Lord Fawn?"
"Who else? What other lord and master? My bosom's own; my heart's best hope; my spot of terra firma; my cool running brook of fresh water; my rock; my love; my lord; my all! Is he always thinking of his absent Lizzie? Does he still toil at Downing Street? Oh, dear; do you remember, Frank, when he told us that 'one of us must remain in town?'"
"I have seen him."
"So you wrote me word."
"And I have seen a very obstinate, pig-headed, but nevertheless honest and truth-speaking gentleman."
"Frank, I don't care twopence for his honesty and truth. If he ill-treats me—" Then she paused; looking into his face she had seen at once by the manner in which he had taken her badinage, without a smile, that it was necessary that she should be serious as to her matrimonial prospects. "I suppose I had better let you tell your story," she said, "and I will sit still and listen."