"How charmingly frank you are."
"And you," she sniveled, "just"—sniff—"treating me"—sniff—"as if I wasn't a lady."
"That," said I gravely, "I shall never be."
"So I'm no account," said Miss Burrows with asperity. "I think you've got just the homeliest face, and the most or'nary manners I ever seen. You're no gentleman."
"Alas, no! I was found in an ashbin with dead cats. My manners were a disgrace to my native slum. My face is my misfortune. Pity me."
"You're a brute!" she sobbed.
"Cry, but take care, my dear, not to sniff. There, you spoil it all by sniffing."
"Beast!"
"Beauty! And so we're Beauty and the Beast. She loved him."
At that she cheered up, and scratched.