“Not I!” said Ormiston, in a tone of gloomy resolution. “While La Masque stays, so will I.”
“And perhaps die of the plague in a week.”
“So be it! I don't fear the plague half as much as I do the thought of losing her!”
Again Sir Norman stared.
“Oh, I see! It's a hopeless case! Faith, I begin to feel curious to see this enchantress, who has managed so effectually to turn your brain. When did you see her last?”
“Yesterday,” said Ormiston, with a deep sigh. “And if she were made of granite, she could not be harder to me than she is!”
“So she doesn't care about you, then?”
“Not she! She has a little Blenheim lapdog, that she loves a thousand times more than she ever will me!”
“Then what an idiot you are, to keep haunting her like her shadow! Why don't you be a man, and tear out from your heart such a goddess?”
“Ah! that's easily said; but if you were in my place, you'd act exactly as I do.”