"Meanwhile," said I, "you shall keep the deed.... And now you are, in fact, if not yet in title, mistress of Summer House. And I think, this night, we should break a bottle of Sir William's Madeira to drink health to our new châtelaine."
She came from her churn and caught my arm, where I had turned to ascend the steps.
"You are jesting, are you not, my lord?"
"No! And do not use that term, 'lord,' to me."
"You—you offer to give me—me—this estate!"
"Yes. I do give it you."
There was a tense silence.
"Why do you offer this?" she burst out breathlessly.
"Why should I have two estates and you have none, Penelope?"
"But that is no reason!" she retorted, almost violently. "For what reason, then, do you give me Summer House? It—it must be you are jesting, my lord!—--"