“I daresay you do. You’re such a clever little vixen.”
“Do you suppose it has not reached my ears about your elopement with your cousin?”
“I don’t care what you’ve heard; it ain’t true. But I say, don’t hold me off like this, Jenny; you know I love you like—like anything.”
“Yes, anything,” she retorted angrily; “any thing—your dogs, your horses, your fishing-rods and gun.”
“Oh, I say.”
“You miserable, deceitful trickster, I ought not to have lowered myself to even speak to you, or to come out again to-night, but I wanted to tell you what I thought about you, and it’s of no use to treat such thick-skinned creatures as you with contempt.”
“Well, you are wild to-night, little one. Don’t want me to show my teeth, too, and go, do you?”
“Yes, and the sooner the better, sir; go back to your wife.”
“Go back to my wife!” he cried, in tones which carried conviction to her ears. “Oh, I say; you’ve got hold of that cock-and-bull story, have you?”
“Yes, sir, I have got hold of the miserable cock-and-bull story, as you so elegantly turn it.”