“Ods-pitikins!” acquiesced Nell, woefully. “Nell’s oaths are bad enough for men.”
“Masculine creature!” spitefully ejaculated the Duchess.
“Verily, quite masculine–of late,” said Nell, demurely, giving a significant tug at her boot-top.
“A vulgar player,” continued the indignant Duchess, “loves every lover who wears gold lace and tosses coins.”
“Nay; ’tis false!” denied Nell, sharply.
The Duchess looked up, surprised.
Nell was all obeisance in an instant.
“Pardon, dear hostess, a thousand pardons,” she prayed; “but I have some reason to know you misjudge Mistress Nell. With all her myriad faults, she never loved but one.”
“You seem solicitous for her good name, dear Beau?” suggested Portsmouth, suspiciously.
“I am solicitous for the name of all good women,” promptly explained Nell, who was rarely caught a-napping, “or I would be unworthy of their sex–I mean their friendship.”