And having read it she stared at him.
"What d'you mean?"
"That's the address."
"Are you making a fool of me?" Polly exclaimed, angry suspicion flashing in her eyes.
"I tell you that's your uncle's address. Now be careful, Polly! I won't stand it a second time."
He was only half joking. Excitement tingled in him—the kind of excitement which might lead either to rage or caresses. He swayed now on one foot, now on the other, as if preparing for a dance, and his fists were clenched upon his hips.
"You mean to say that's his reel name?" cried Polly, she, too, quivering and reddening.
"I do. Now mind, Polly; mind what you say, my girl! I won't stand it a second time."
"Don't go on like a ijiot!" exclaimed the girl, starting up from her chair. "Of course I'll believe it if you tell me you're not kidding. And you mean to say he's a lord?"
"See for yourself."