"Oh, never speak so formally! Am I not Dick, thy own dear old Dick--eh?"
"I did not mean to be formal."
"Come and sit here beside me--no, here, on the arm of my chair. It was good of you to come in here. I was getting lonesome. I wanted my Kate to tell me she loved me--eh?"
"I only came in to say good-night. It is late."
"Late?--pooh! It's not nine o'clock. Stay and be sociable a bit. There, I won't touch another drop if you'll stay."
"I'm tired; I have a headache. You don't want me."
"Not want you! Ay, but I do though! Without you, Kate, I should have been a dead man weeks ago. Not want you!"
"Nonsense! what do you mean? You have drunk too much already, I fear."
"I mean that, but for you, I'd have blown my brains out the day of the trial--after I'd blown out his, the scoundrel! But since I have you, I know a way to worry him better than by blowing his brains out. To know that you are mine is hell to him. And in that hell I'll keep him, as long as my body and soul will hang together!"
"What should he care whether I am yours or not?"