"And how much does she know?"
"Everything there is to tell."
"How in the world do you know that?"
"Because, my friend, I am, unlike you, a student of character. Percivale is besottedly in love, and, with his idiotic, romantic notions, would be sure to think he must tell his precious Elsa everything."
"Your inconsistency pains me, Mrs. O. Does this tally with the character of the deliberate adventurer? Surely he would have more prudence."
"Well," said she, after a pause, "if she does not know it now, she could certainly make him tell her, if it were put into her head to ask."
"You would be a bad ambassadress. If there is one person on the face of this earth whom she hates, I imagine it to be yourself."
"Oh! Pooh! Let me have her for an hour, I would be her warmest friend."
He smiled.
"You are sanguine," he answered.