"I don't,"—gayly,—"and I forgive you for having acceded to poor papa's proposal: so don't fret about it. After all,"—naughtily,—"I dare say I might have got worse; you aren't half bad so far, which is wise of you, because I warn you I am an enfant gaté; and should you dare to thwart me I should lead you such a life as would make you rue the day you were born."
"You speak as though it were my desire to thwart you."
"Well, perhaps it is. At all events," with a relieved sigh,—"I have warned you, and now it is off my mind. By the bye, I was going to say something to you a few minutes ago when you interrupted me."
"What was it?"
"I want you"—coaxingly—"to take me round by The Cottage, so that I may get a glimpse at this wonderful widow."
"It would be no use; you would not see her."
"But I might."
"And if so, what would you gain by it? She is very much like other women: she has only one nose, and not more than two eyes."
"Nevertheless she rouses my curiosity. Why have you such a dislike to the poor woman?"