"Something about your producing a play of Talfourd's--Talfourd's, of all people in the world! My hat! he said that you proposed to act one of the principal parts in it yourself. Isabel, that's going too far; I won't stand it."
"You won't what?"
There was something in the lady's tone and in her attitude before which he obviously quailed.
"I don't think that it's becoming in a woman of your position, as--as my wife."
"It's not my fault that I'm your wife."
"Still the fact remains that you are. By the way, has Talfourd been saying anything to you about me?"
"What should he say?--except to advise me to sew you in a sack and drop you into the river."
"That's just what he'd like--he's that sort of man."
"Is he? He's what you never were, never will be, never could be--a gentleman. Why you don't even begin to understand what a gentleman is."
"'Pon my word, I wonder that I let you talk to me like this. I don't want to quarrel with you--I hate quarrelling!--I really do. You couldn't treat me worse if I were a shoeblack."