“It was to have been the reward of your service to me; and in that, by God! you’ve failed, and I believe failed of purpose. I don’t reward traitors.”
“How have I been a traitor?”
“Don’t you know very well? But perhaps you’ve come to the conclusion that, saving the King, the Duke of York might suit you for second best.”
“George!”
“Don’t ‘George’ me, madam!”
“You’ll make me dangerous.”
“O, I know what you mean! But who’ll believe such a little rogue and liar! And who do you think will get the best of a contest of wits between us? But tell his lordship if you will. I’m at that reckless stage I should welcome a sharp decision with him. For you, you’ve proved yourself a worse than useless partner in the business—earning the man’s aversion instead of his love, and by your hints and antics bringing the pair nearer, through a mutual jealousy, than you found them. But I understood now why it was, and just the value of the scruples you were so nice in expressing. They waited on the highest bidder, didn’t they? and I wish you luck of him now you’ve got him. Upon my soul, Mrs. Davis, you have my sincere respect as one of the artfullest little timeservers that ever knew how to take a profit of circumstance.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“O! of course not. Innocence in a wimple, like a very pansy of the fields.”
“You want me to go, I suppose?”