"Have we?" asked Peggy in simple wonder. "I didn't know."
Her incensed swain, grappling heroically with his feelings, began to stride about the room.
"Peggy," he said in a stern voice, "let us understand one another clearly."
For reply, the unfeeling Miss Falconer rose to her feet and struck an attitude.
"'Tush!' cried the Marquis, pacing the floor of the bijou boudoir liked a caged lion," she recited.
Timothy uttered an impatient ejaculation, and dropped upon the sofa.
"Then, with a superb gesture of contempt, he turned upon his heel and flung himself into the depths of an abysmal divan," continued Peggy. "Careful, Timmy! I heard the sofa crack."
"I suppose you know, Peggy," announced Timothy in a very ill-used voice, "that you are breaking my heart? Also destroying my faith in women? Mere details, of course," he added, in what was meant to be a tone of world-weary cynicism; "but they may interest you!"
He rose, and leaning gloomily against the mantelpiece, glowered his disapprobation of his beloved's ill-timed levity.
Once more, just as in her conversation with Philip, Peggy flashed into another mood. She put out an appealing hand, and touched Tim caressingly.