“I had rather they laughed than cursed me,” growled Nicholas.
“Have you forgotten all that has passed between us?” demanded the Dame.
“Wish I could,” sighed Nicholas.
“At your age—” commenced the Dame.
“I am feeling younger than I ever felt in all my life,” Nicholas interrupted her.
“You don’t look it,” commented the Dame.
“What do looks matter?” snapped Nicholas. “It is the soul of a man that is the real man.”
“They count for something, as the world goes,” explained the Dame. “Why, if I liked to follow your example and make a fool of myself, there are young men, fine young men, handsome young men—”
“Don’t let me stand in your way,” interposed Nicholas quickly. “As you say, I am old and I have a devil of a temper. There must be many better men than I am, men more worthy of you.”
“I don’t say there are not,” returned the Dame: “but nobody more suitable. Girls for boys, and old women for old men. I haven’t lost my wits, Nicholas Snyders, if you have. When you are yourself again—”