"Because it was my whim!"
"Oh, I know—I know!" she cried, positively gnashing her teeth at me.
"Then why trouble to ask?"
"You thought 'twas me!" she cried. "You dared to think I'd stolen it.
You did—you did! Ah, you're afraid to own it!"
"And if I did," cried I, angered at last, "hadn't I reason enough, remembering your—your propensities—"
"What d'ye mean? What's propensities?"
"Well, your predilections—"
"Ah, talk plain!"
"Well, then, remembering those three guineas and the duck you filched,
I naturally supposed—"
Uttering a sobbing cry she leapt, striking at me wildly, but ducking in under the blow, I caught her in my arms. For a moment she struggled fiercely, then her writhing body grew soft and yielding in my clasp, and she burst into a passion of tears.