If ever fire flashed from a woman’s eyes, it was upon this occasion. Miss Stretton’s face seemed transformed with anger.
“Sir!” she flashed, “that last remark was an insult to my countrywomen, and was intended as such. I bid you good-night, and I ask you never to speak to me again.”
“Exactly as I thought,” said I; “the moment shells begin to fly, you beat a retreat.”
Miss Stretton had taken five indignant steps toward the companion-way when my words brought her to a standstill. After a momentary pause she turned around with a proud motion of her figure which elicited my utmost admiration, walked back to my side, and said very quietly:
“Pardon me; pray proceed.”
“I shall not proceed, but shall take the liberty of pausing for a moment to show you the futility of jumping to a conclusion. Now, try to comprehend. You said, English ladies. My illustration would have been useless if the Countess and the Duchess had been Americans. Do you comprehend that, or are you too angry?”
I waited for a reply but none came.
“Let me tell you further,” I went on, “that I know several American women who possess titles; and if any man in my presence dared to hint that one or other of them was not a lady I should knock him down if I could, and if no one but men were about. So you see I was throwing no disparagement on your countrywomen, but was merely clenching my argument on the lines you yourself had laid down.”
“I see; I apologize. Pray go on with the lecture.”