Canon Spratte laughed heartily.
“It comes to the same thing. Like the typical Englishman, I never know when I’m beaten.”
“Good heavens, what a man it is!” she cried. “One can’t even remark that it’s a fine day without your extracting a compliment from it. Master Theodore, self-praise is no recommendation.”
“Miss Sophia, your nose wants blowing,” he retorted promptly.
“That I think is rather vulgar, Theodore.”
Canon Spratte laughed again.
“That’s just like a woman; she hits you when you’re not looking, and when you defend yourself, she cries: ‘Foul play!’ ”
“Fiddlesticks!”
There was a pause, during which Lady Sophia, knowing how anxious the Canon was to tell her about Winnie, waited for him to speak; while he, equally aware of her curiosity, determined to utter no word till she gave him the satisfaction of asking. The lady lost patience first.
“Why, then, did you consent to Winnie’s engagement with the coal-heaver?” she asked, abruptly.