"There's no dodging Midas," said Ford.
"Surely—" said Miss Beaumont. She had been learning Latin not quite a fortnight, but she would have corrected the Regius Professor.
He began to tease her. "Oh, there's no dodging Midas! He just comes, he touches you, and you pay him several thousand per cent, at once. You're gold—a young golden lady—if he touches you."
"I won't be touched!" she cried, relapsing into her habitual frivolity.
"Oh, but he'll touch you."
"He sha'n't!"
"He will."
"He sha'n't!"
"He will."
Miss Beaumont took up her Virgil and smacked Ford over the head with it.