"I do not know about my being wicked," he muttered, "but I do know that I am a damn fool!... Bah! they are all alike! the most modest will frivol if she but get the man, and the place, and the inclination." ... Presently, he laughed. "I fancy I was unexpectedly strenuous. I warrant she had not had such a kissing, in many a day."
He pushed his velvet-sheathed rapier back under his coat-skirt and brought the handle forward, brushed the powder from his shoulders, straightened his cravat, and, taking out his gold snuff-box, flourished a pinch to his nostrils. He would wait until she came down.
Presently she came, descending slowly, her dress held with both hands. Her hair had been put to rights, her gown smoothed out.
Maynadier stepped forward, and met her at the foot of the stairs. She paused, just out of reach.
"Will you promise to be well-behaved?" she asked, tantalizingly.
"If you will promise not to tempt too far," he replied.
"Tempt!" she inflected. "I am no temptress, Mr. Maynadier."
Gravely, he took her hand, and led her before the mirror, in the drawing room.
"No temptress, think you?" he inquired. "No temptress!"