“You shall ask me no questions till I have done asking mine,” said the young lady, with decision; “and I will speak as much as I please of Lady May!”
This jealousy flattered Sir Richard.
“And I will say this,” continued Grace Maubray, “you never address her except as a lover, in what you romantic people would call the language of love.”
“Now, now, now! How can you say that? Is that fair?”
“You do.”
“No, really, I swear—that's too bad!”
“Yes, the other day, when you spoke to her at the carriage window—you did not think I heard—you accused her so tenderly of having failed to go to Lady Harbroke's garden-party, and you couldn't say what you meant in plain terms, but you said, ‘Why were you false?’”
“I didn't, I swear.”
“Oh! you did; I heard every syllable; ‘false’ was the word.”
“Well, if I said ‘false,’ I must have been thinking of her hair; for she is really a very honest old woman.”