Lady. It had not that effect upon your face, for you were as white as ashes.
Sir Luke. Aye, you did not see yourself, while he was talking of grandfathers and great grandfathers—if you had—
Lady. I was not white, I protest.
Sir Luke. No—but you were as red as scarlet.
Lady. And you ought to have resented the insult, if you saw me affected by it—Oh! some men wou'd have given him such a dressing—
Sir Luke. Yes, my dear, if your uncle the frisseur had been alive, he wou'd have given him a dressing, I dare say.
Lady. Sir Luke, none of your impertinence; you know I can't nor won't bear it—neither will I wait for Lord Flint's resentment on Mr. Twineall—No, I desire you will tell him to quit this roof immediately.
Sir Luke. No, my dear—no, no—you must excuse me—I can't think of quarrelling with a gentleman in my own house.
Lady. Was it your own house to day at dinner when he insulted us? and would quarrel then?
Sir Luke. No—that was a friend's house—and I make it a rule never to quarrel in my own house—a friend's house—in a tavern—or in the streets.