“Nor can I, my good sir, permit you to remain in my bedroom.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Go and sleep outside.”
“Where? Upon the roof? You don’t know what kind of a night it is.”
“You are not very gallant, Señor.”
“Pneumonia would be less gallant with me, Señora.”
“Do you think that I am going to allow you to remain in this room all night?”
“See here, Señora, I’m not by any means trying to violate you. Allow me to take a mattress, and stretch out upon the floor.”
“Impossible.”
“If you are afraid, leave the lamp lit. Furthermore, for your better tranquillity, and as a means of defence for your honour, I hand you these two pistols. They are loaded,” said Quentin, as he cautiously unloaded them.