"There is nothing like independence," remarked the poet, observing her with a broad smile, as she performed this manoeuvre and stood in triumph on the desk. "Like marriage, it usually begins with a declaration and ends with a fight. It did in America."
"You imagine you are witty," said Bessie, in icy tones, picking the ruffle from its perch on the candelabra.
Moore stepped quickly forward and shut up the desk. This done he removed the chair by which she had mounted and had her completely at his mercy.
"And you," he said pleasantly, "imagine you are independent."
Bessie turned carefully and discovered her plight with a little exclamation of dismay.
"Put that chair back and open this desk immediately," she commanded sternly.
"The chair is doing very well where it is," replied Moore, calmly sitting down upon it.
Bessie bit her lip in anger.
"It is not customary for a gentleman to sit while a lady remains standing."
"Nor is it usual," answered Moore, "for a lady to climb up on a desk."