“Naughty!”
At that he giggled helplessly and went on giggling until he was near crying.
“Histrionics!” said Mrs. Copas, and gave him brandy.
Matilda appeared at the door and was pushed out. At that Mr. Mole, who had seen her, began to weep and sobbed like a disappointed child, and went on sobbing until Matilda was allowed to come in and sit by his side. She sat on the bed, and he stopped his sobbing as abruptly as a horse will come to a standstill after a mad sunset gallop. Mrs. Copas left them.
Matilda sat stroking her cheek and gazing at him. She cocked her head on one side and said:
“Glad you’re better, but I don’t like men with beards. Napoleon didn’t have a beard.”
“How do you know?”
“I bought a book about him for a penny. I like Josephine.”
“I don’t know much about it, but I always felt sorry for her.”
“She gave as good as she got. That’s why I like her. . . . I had a part to do to-night.”