“Your ladyship wants acts, eh?”
“To be sure, and at once, Barclay. I want five hundred pounds.”
“A large sum, my lady,” said Barclay warily.
“Stuff! A trifle. Just enough to take me on the Continent and back.”
“Humph!” said Barclay aloud; and to himself: “One of the post-chaises.”
“Now, no nonsense, Barclay, or I shall be compelled to whip you severely with my fan.”
“That ought to be a pleasure, madam,” said Barclay politely. “But what security do you offer for five hundred pounds?”
“Security! and from me, you wicked ogre!” said her ladyship playfully. “Why, you ought to feel honoured.”
“I do, my lady, greatly; but—”
“There, I don’t want to waste my time listening to stuff. I know what a close-fisted, miserly old wretch you are, and so I came prepared.”