Lady Littletown placed her scissors in the hand that held the basket, raised her square gold eyeglass, and looked at her visitor.
“Well done, Arturo! excellent, mon général! Why, you would carry the stoutest fort I set you to attack in a few days. I have not heard anything so clever as that apt remark of yours for months. Really,” she continued, dropping the glass and resuming her scissors, “I am growing quite proud of you—I am indeed.”
“And so you mock at me,” he said angrily.
“Not I, Arturo; you were only practising; and it was very smart. No, my dear, it would not do for you; and I tell you frankly, you have had a very narrow escape.”
“Why?” he said; and his eyes glanced round at the rich place with its many indications of wealth, and as he noted these there came to his memory his last unpaid bill.
“Because I have a horrible temper, and I am a terrible tyrant. Of course you would have married me for my money and position.”
“Don’t say that,” cried Litton.
“Don’t be a donkey, Arthur, mon cher,” said the lady. “Well, to proceed: I should have married you because you were young and handsome.”
“Your ladyship seemed to indicate just now that I was not handsome,” said Litton.
“Did I? Well, I retract. I do think you handsome, Arturo, and I should have been horribly jealous of you as soon as I found that you were paying your court elsewhere.”