“Are you sure?”
“As sure as that I am not going to rob you of the money.”
“Oh, I only mean to lend it you.”
“That alters the case.”
“Prodigiously.” And she smiled satirically. “Now your friend's address, that is treating with your creditors.”
“Must I?”
“Unless you want to put me in a great passion.”
“Anything sooner than that.” Then he wrote it for her.
“And now,” said she, “grant me a little favor for old acquaintance. Just kneel you down there, and let me wrestle with Heaven for you, that you may be a brand plucked from the fire, even as I am.”
The Pink of Politeness submitted, with a sigh of resignation.