“Yet how poorly he fenced with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You won. You got him—poor devil.”
“Wretch! Ted at least would never pick on a woman.”
“If it’s Ted Suffle,” said Rust, “I saw him pick on his teeth, to-night, and that is worse——in company.”
“His tooth aches terribly!” said Lady Margaret, defending poor Suffle gallantly.
“He indulges in too much sweets,” Adam remarked, unmoved. “Treat him the way you do me and he’ll soon be better.”
“I wish Ted could hear the way you talk to me,” she said.
“If he could hear the things you say to me, he would demand that duel quicker,” Rust responded. “Tell me something outrageous to say to the fellow, so that he will be obliged to challenge.”
“Nonsense,” she said, looking at him slyly, “don’t be silly. You wouldn’t fight a duel over me.”