She half respected him for speaking to her in that way, and in such a tone; there was perhaps a little more to the double-adjectival one than she had guessed. And as the cards were dead against her now, she decided on a strategic grovel of pathos and brandy.
"Call yourself a gentleman?" Tears sprang reluctantly to the raddled cheek.
The sight of a lady in tears, even a lady who drank, was a little too much for Henry Harper.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "I oughtn't to have said that." He had remembered that the word "cow" as applied to the female sex was a Blackhampton expression and a favorite with Auntie.
The lady could only weep a little more profusely. This mug was as soft as butter.
He stood looking at her with tight lips and with eyes of sorrowful disgust.
"But you've no right to drink as much as you do," he said, determinedly. "And you've no right to ride in taxis with gentlemen and to let them put their arms round you."
"And you've no right to call your own lawful wife a cow," she said, tearfully.
"I've apologized for that," he said. "But you've given me no explanation of that gentleman."
"Didn't I say I was a bit on," she said aggrievedly.