"Anything but tr—ump—ump—umpery; it came down from my ancestors."
"You never had any; your behavior shows that."
"I tell you it is an heirloom. It was given to my mother by—"
"Oh, we know all about that," said Julia. "'This bracelet did an Egyptian to my mother give.' But you are not going to play Othello with me."
"I shouldn't have a very gentle Desdemona."
"No, you wouldn't, candidly. No man shall ever bully and insult me, and then wake me out of my first sleep to smother me because my maid has lost one of his handkerchiefs at the wash."
He burst out laughing at this, and tried to inveigle her into good-humor.
"Say no more about it," said he, "and I'll forgive you."
"Forgive me, you little wretch!" cried Julia. "Why, haven't you the sense to see that it is serious this time, and my patience is exhausted, and that our engagement is broken off, and I never mean to see you again—except when you come to my wedding?"
"Your wedding!" cried Percy, turning pale. "With whom?"