“I bet you five pounds I do!”
“Done!” said Edward briskly. “At least, I would if you’d got five pounds.”
“But I have. I’m simply rolling. I’ve sold my Dejanira, didn’t you know? I shall win your money, though, anyway. But you couldn’t do it, old man. I suppose you’ll never outgrow that childish scare.”
“You might shut up about that,” said Edward shortly.
“Oh, it’s nothing to be ashamed of; some women are afraid of mice or spiders. I say, does Rose know you’re a coward?”
“Vincent!”
“No offence, old boy. One may as well call a spade a spade. Of course, you’ve got tons of moral courage, and all that. But you are afraid of the dark—and wax-works!”
“Are you trying to quarrel with me?”
“Heaven in its mercy forbid; but I bet you wouldn’t spend a night in the Musée Grévin and keep your senses.”
“What’s the stake?”