“Go to bed, you fool!” shrieked her brother.
“Dear cousin,” she said, “it’s cruel you’re to have so to think of us!”
“Oh I shall think of you as you’d like!” He laid a hand on her head.
“I believe you’ve done nothing wrong,” she brought bravely out.
“I’ve done what I could,” Mr. Searle went on—“but it’s arrant folly to pretend to friendship when this abomination lies between us. You were welcome to my meat and my wine, but I wonder you could swallow them. The sight spoiled my appetite!” cried the master of Lackley with a laugh. “Proceed with your trumpery case! My people in London are instructed and prepared.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if your case had improved a good deal since you gave it up,” I was moved to observe to Searle.
“Oho! you don’t feign ignorance then?” and our insane entertainer shook his shining head at me. “It’s very kind of you to give it up! Perhaps you’ll also give up my sister!”
Searle sat staring in distress at his adversary. “Ah miserable man—I thought we had become such beautiful friends.”
“Boh, you hypocrite!” screamed our host.
Searle seemed not to hear him. “Am I seriously expected,” he slowly and painfully pursued, “to defend myself against the accusation of any real indelicacy—to prove I’ve done nothing underhand or impudent? Think what you please!” And he rose, with an effort, to his feet. “I know what you think!” he added to Miss Searle.