“Oh!” she cried, panting, and struggling with her passion, “if I wasn't a child of God, I'd—”
“You'd give me a devilish good hiding,” said Vandeleur, demurely.
“That I would,” said she, very earnestly.
“You forget that I never told you I was mad. How could I imagine you would hear it? How could I dream you would come, even if you did?”
“I should be no Christian if I didn't come.”
“But I mean we parted bad friends, you know.”
“Yes, Van; but when I asked you for the gray horse you sent me a new sidesaddle. A woman does not forget those little things. You were a gentleman, though a child of Belial.”
Vandeleur bowed most deferentially, as much as to say, “In both those matters you are the highest authority earth contains.”
“So come,” said she, “here is plenty of writing-paper. Now tell me all your debts, and I will put them down.”
“What is the use? At a shilling in the pound, six hundred will pay them all.”