"Bear it like a man!" said Jacko, with solemnity.
"You admit it, then. You—you—you—"
"'Unprincipled female.' There! I have helped you to the words. And now, if you will be melo-dramatic, you should grip up your hair with both hands, and stride up and down the floor and vociferate, 'Confusion! distraction! perdition! or any other awful words you can think of. That's the way they do it in the plays."
"Madam, your impertinence is growing beyond sufferance. I cannot endure it."
"That's a mighty great pity, now, for you can't cure it."
"St. Mary! I will bear this no longer."
"Then I'm afraid you'll have to emigrate!"
"I'll commit suicide."
"That's you! Do! I should like very well to wear bombazine this cold weather. Please do it at once, too, if you're going to, for I should rather be out of deep mourning by midsummer!"
"By heaven, I will pay you for this."