"I should never have told him, had I been ashamed of you," she interrupted.
"Just so, adorable creature, but since we had resolved to keep our affair secret, and since we were agreed that stolen meetings, like stolen fruit, taste the sweetest, I was surprized to hear you had told every one."
"I did not tell any one."
"But, my angel, you did."
"Not until I was forced. 'Tis very well for you. You're a man of fashion and independence, and I'm a young woman."
"Incontestable truth!"
"Now you're being satirical, and I vow I detest sarcasm. Indeed, I think it has all been a mistake, and I'll go back to Hampshire to-morrow, and you may go back to your Haymarket."
"Very well, madam, since you dismiss my suit, I will go back to my Haymarket. It may be vastly diverting for you, madam, to break a man's heart. You, secure in the verdant meads and—er—meadows of the county of Hampshire, you, wandering among fields of daffadillies, at peace, beneath a summer sun."
"Daffadillies don't grow in the summer."
"Alas! madam, I am ignorant of these pastoral delights."