“The more shame for you to bring me to such a place, then. It only shows how you value me.
“Well, I dare say you are tired. I am! But then, see what I’ve gone through. Well, we won’t quarrel in a barbarous country. We won’t do that. Caudle, dear, - what’s the French for lace? I know it, only I forget it. The French for lace, love? What?
“Dentelle?
“Now, you’re not deceiving me?
“You never deceived me yet?
“Oh! don’t say that. There isn’t a married man in this blessed world can put his hand upon his heart in bed and say that. French for lace, dear? Say it again.
“Dentelle?
“Ha! Dentelle! Good-night, dear. Dentelle! Den-telle.”
“I afterwards,” writes Caudle, “found out to my cost wherefore she inquired about lace. For she went out in the morning with the landlady to buy a veil, giving only four pounds for what she could have bought in England for forty shillings!”