She threw out her hand as one would throw a bone to a dog.
"My living, breathing, noble Charlotte," he cried, a little bewitched, "I love you with all my heart!"
It surprised him that her features should be gradually expressing less delight.
"With all your heart?"
"Could I give you a part?"
"It is done, sometimes," she said, mock-sadly. Then, in her original voice: "Good. I never credited that story of you and the girl Emilia. I suppose what people say is a lie?"
Her eyes, in perfect accordance with the tone she had adopted, set a quiet watch on him.
"Who says it?" he thundered, just as she anticipated.
"It's not true?"
"Not true!—how can it be true?"