"That is what mama says. It is a pity to make ugly names for good women."
"I'll be drawn and quartered before I'll be called an old maid," said Peggy fiercely. "What difference does it make, after all, which of these simpletons one takes for a husband? Were you ever in love with one of them, Angélique?"
Peggy had the kind of eyes which show a disk of light in the dark, and they revealed it as she asked this question.
"No, I think not," answered Angélique.
"You think not. You believe, to the best of your knowledge and recollection, that such a thing has never happened to you," mocked Peggy. And then she made a sudden pounce at Angélique's arm. "What was the matter with you when you ran up the gallery steps, a minute ago?"
The startled girl drew in her breath with surprise, but laughed.
"It was lighter then," hinted Peggy.
"Did you see him?"
"Yes, I saw him. And I saw you coaxing him along with a bunch of roses, for all the world like catching a pony with a bunch of grass. And I saw him careering back to neigh in your face."
"Oh, Peggy, I wish Monsieur Reece Zhone could but hear what you say. Do teach me some of your clever ridicule. It must be that I take suitors too seriously."