‘You do not know?’
‘I do not.’
‘Why do you lie to me?’
‘I don’t lie to you,—I haven’t the faintest notion what is the nature of your interest in Mr Lessingham.’
‘My interest?—that is another thing; it is your interest of which we are speaking.’
‘Pardon me,—it is yours.’
‘Listen! you love her,—and he! But at a word from you he shall not have her,—never! It is I who say it,—I!’
‘And, once more, sir, who are you?’
‘I am of the children of Isis!’
‘Is that so?—It occurs to me that you have made a slight mistake,—this is London, not a dog-hole in the desert.’