"Speak plainly. I hate epigrams."
"So do I. They are such a bar to intelligent conversation. Well, Mrs. Bryant is a lady of birth, who married beneath her. Mr. Bryant was a bully, a sot, a spendthrift, and he lost all his money by fast living. When he became poor, his friends--for strange to say, this unpleasant person had some friends--set him up in an hotel. He was ashamed to stick his own name over his door; so he cast about for another. Perhaps you can tell me what that other name was?"
"No."
"What a singularly obstinate person you are," said, Fanks, shaking his head. "Believe me, it is no use our wasting time in discussing facts. Be sensible, Mrs. Boazoph, and admit that you are Mrs. Bryant."
"No."
"Mrs. Bryant, the sister of Mrs. Colmer, of Taxton-on-Thames, dressmaker, and decayed gentlewoman."
"I don't know her; I never heard her name."
"Really!" said Fanks, with gentle pity, "then I must inquire of Mrs. Colmer, of Taxton-on-Thames, how is it that her sister, Mrs. Bryant, is the notorious Mrs. Boazoph, of London."
"You are a fiend!"
"And what is Mrs. Bryant, alias Boazoph?"