Frayne.
Ah, yes. I've always been a dooced deal more artful than you, Harry, over my little amours. [Chuckling.] Ha, ha! devilish cunning!
Quex.
And I was right. Her first words were, "Think of your life; how can you ask this of me?"—her first words and her last, that evening. I was desperate, Chick, for I— Well, I'm hit, you know.
Frayne.
What did you do?
Quex.
Came to town by the first train in the morning—drove straight off to Richmond, to my pious aunt. Found her in bed with asthma; I got her up. And I almost went down on my knees to her, Chick.
Not really?