“I only think of the question as it displays a man on one side, and a woman on the other. Long odds in favor of the first, eh?”
“You think so!” said Paten, with a sneer. “By Jove! how well you judge such matters! I can't help wondering what becomes of all that subtlety and sharpness you show when dealing with stage folk, when you come to treat with the world of every-day life. Why, I defy the wiliest serpent of the ballet to overreach you, and yet you suffer this woman to wind you round her finger!”
“Well, it is a very pretty finger!” laughed Stocmar.
“Yes, but to have you at her feet in this fashion!”
“And what a beautiful foot too!” cried Stocmar, with enthusiasm.
Something that sounded like a malediction was muttered by Paten as he arose and walked the room with passionate strides. “Once more, I say,” cried he, “let me take your place this evening, or else I 'll call on this old fool,—this Sir William Heathcote,—and give him the whole story of his bride. I 'm not sure if it's not the issue would give me most pleasure. I verily believe it would.”
“It's a smart price to pay for a bit of malice too!” said Stocmar, musing. “I must say, there are some other ways in which the money would yield me as much pleasure.”
“Is it a bargain, Stocmar? Do you say yes?” cried Paten, with heightened excitement.
“I don't see how I can agree to it,” broke in the other. “If she distinctly tells me that she will not meet you—”
“Then she shall, by———!” cried Paten, confirming the determination by a terrible oath. “Look out now, Stocmar, for a scene,” continued he, “and gratify yourself by the thought it is all your own doing. Had you accepted my proposal, I 'd have simply gone in your place, made myself known to her without scandal or exposure, and, in very few words, declared what my views were, and learned how far she'd concur with them. You prefer an open rupture before the world. Well, you shall have it!”