"I tried to bring her to."
"Now, hark at that! And after all the trouble you had taken to send her off. And did she come?"
"I am sorry to say, as I have already explained to you, that my efforts were not attended with success."
"That was mean of her--real mean. And I suppose that, when you were performing these little experiments of yours upon my wife, this room was filled with a large assemblage?"
"We were alone together. I wish, now, it had been otherwise."
"Why?"
"After the questions you have already put to me, that needs no answer."
"Think not? Well, let me fill up your glass for you, Mr. Pownceby."
"I am obliged to you, but must beg you to excuse me."
"Is that so? You don't show yourself so friendly towards me as towards my wife. Perhaps, Mr. Pownceby, you're not aware that for the last two years I've been trotting round the world picking up the pieces to throw into her lap. She's English, and I'm American. She's not at all times fond of me, and we sometimes differ; but I love her, in my way. So you may think that when the first thing I hear, when I come to catch a sight of her after a two years' parting, is this little tale of yours, I find it a pleasing tale entirely. I find it that, I do assure you. Now, the only thing I should like you to do would be to play those little tricks on me which you played upon my wife. I should like to be hypnotised, uncommonly."