“Ah!” shrieked Alfred, as though he had at last run his victim to earth.
She retreated with her fingers crossed. “I only said suppose,” she reminded him quickly. Then she continued in a tone meant to draw from him his heart's most secret confidence. “Didn't you ever eat lunch with any woman but me?”
“Never!” answered Alfred firmly.
There was an unmistakable expression of pleasure on Zoie's small face, but she forced back the smile that was trying to creep round her lips, and sidled toward Alfred, with eyes properly downcast. “Then I'm very sorry I did it,” she said solemnly, “and I'll never do it again.”
“So!” cried Alfred with renewed indignation. “You admit it?”
“Just to please you, dear,” explained Zoie sweetly, as though she were doing him the greatest possible favour.
“To please me?” gasped Alfred. “Do you suppose it pleases me to know that you are carrying on the moment my back is turned, making a fool of me to my friends?”
“Your friends?” cried Zoie with a sneer. This time it was her turn to be angry. “So! It's your FRIENDS that are worrying you!” In her excitement she tossed Alfred's now damaged hat into the chair just behind her. He was far too overwrought to see it. “I haven't done you any harm,” she continued wildly. “It's only what you think your friends think.”
“You haven't done me any harm?” repeated Alfred, in her same tragic key, “Oh no! Oh no! You've only cheated me out of everything I expected to get out of life! That's all!”
Zoie came to a full stop and waited for him to enumerate the various treasures that he had lost by marrying her. He did so.