“In the fire, madam.”
“What? In snatching your innamorata from the flames?”
“Not precisely,” he said.
“Come, now, tell me; did she set the room a-fire?” demanded the young lady. “Oh, you need not think to deceive me. My brother Mar’s coachman told my mamma’s woman all about it, and how she was locked up and ran away; but they have her fast enough now, after all her tricks!”
“Who have? For pity’s sake tell me, Lady Belle!”
Loving to tease, she exclaimed: “There, now, what a work to make about a white-faced little rustic!”
“Your ladyship has not seen her.”
“Have I not, though? I don’t admire your taste.”
“Is she in Queen’s Square?”
“Do not you wish me to tell you where you can find your old faded doll, with a waist just like a wasp, and an old blue sacque—not a bit of powder in her hair?”