"Then I don't understand English."
"You don't understand me."
"Ah, yes I do, papa. I do understand you. I know that at this moment you are doing something that you are ashamed of—something that later you will bitterly repent. You are carrying on now through pride what you began in wrath. Stop where you are. The dead can not be avenged. That's a barbarous code. Remember, in all the petty irritations of the past, when you have been hurt by your neighbors, you were never so triumphant as when you surprised those who injured you by a magnanimous return—"
"There, I made an agreement with you that we should not speak of these things. I mean it. I find that you take advantage of me. I shall be banished from the house if you do not keep to your bargain."
Kate sighed. She had hoped that the early banter was paving the way for a reconciliation. She took up some work and tried to busy her hands.
"Suppose you read me something? You haven't read in an age."
"What shall it be?"
"Oh, something from Dickens—anything you like."
"Very well, I shall show you a counterfeit presentment of yourself," and, with an arch-smile, she began to read from The Chimes.
He listened soberly until the last page was turned, and then, rising, said abstractedly: