"You didn't kiss her?"
Sir Tristram took out his handkerchief. He actually gasped for breath. It is to be feared that at that moment the representative of English law almost told a lie. However, it was only almost; not quite. He merely temporised.
"The whole affair is a pure absurdity."
"How do you mean? Is the charge unfounded?"
Sir Tristram drew his handkerchief across his brow.
"Supposing I did kiss her."
"Supposing! Triggs? Good heavens! I remember your leading for a woman who brought exactly such a charge against a man. I remember how clearly you pointed out how, under certain circumstances, such an action might be, and was, an offence against good morals. Didn't Pickum give the man six months?"
The lawyer's resemblance to a bull-dog became more and more pronounced. He all but showed his teeth.
"I don't know, Duke, if you are enjoying a little amusement at my expense."
The Duke sprang to his feet. His bearing evinced an accession of dignity which, in its melodramatic suddenness, almost approached to farce.