"I was going to observe, if you had not interrupted me, that no one was wanting in proper respect towards me," replied the lady, who grew more cool as her husband increased in choler. "Pray, Mr Sullivan, may I inquire who is the author of this slander?"
"The author, madam! look at me—to your confusion look at me!"
"Well, I'm looking."
"'Twas, madam—the colonel himself."
"The colonel himself!"
"Yes, madam, the colonel himself, who called this morning to see you and renew the intimacy, I presume; but by mistake was shown up to me, and then made an apology for his conduct."
"It's excessively strange! first the colonel is rude, without my knowledge, and then apologises to you! Mr Sullivan, I'm afraid that your head is not right this morning."
"Indeed, madam, I only wish that your heart was as sound," replied the husband, with a sneer; "but, madam, I am not quite blind. An honest woman—a virtuous woman, Mrs Sullivan, would have immediately acquainted her husband with what had passed—not have concealed it; still less have had the effrontery to deny it, when acknowledged by her paramour."
"Paramour!" cried the lady, with an hysterical laugh; "Mr Sullivan, when I select a paramour, it shall be a handsome young man—not an old, yellow-faced—"
"Pshaw, madam! there's no accounting for taste; when a woman deviates from the right path—"