"I should be glad to equal them at anything in your estimation. But come, such honest enemies as we are should be as sincere as friends. I have meant every word I have said to you. You are harboring me, an entire stranger, who presented my credentials at first very rudely. Now you can ask me any questions you choose. You have proved yourself to be such a genuine lady that I should be glad to have you think that I am a gentleman by birth and breeding."
"Oh, I was convinced of that before you put your sabre in its scabbard on the evening of your most unwelcome arrival, when you spoiled our supper-party. You have since been confirming first impressions. I must admit, however, that I scarcely 'reverence' you yet, nor have I detected anything specially 'angelic.'"
"Your failure in these respects will be the least of my troubles.
I do not take back what I have said, however."
"Wait; perhaps you will. You are very slightly acquainted with me, sir."
"You are much less so with me, and can't imagine what an obstinate fellow I am."
"Oh, if I have to contend with obstinacy rather than judgment—"
"Please let us have no contentions whatever. I have often found that your Southern men out-matched me, and not for the world would I have a dispute with a woman of your mettle. I give you my parole to do all that you wish, as far as it is within my power, while I am helpless on your hands."
"And when I have helped to make you well you will go and fight against the South again?"
"Yes, Miss Barkdale," gravely, "and so would your officers against the North."
"Oh, I know it. I sha'n't put any poison in your coffee."