‘With her ladyship, I suppose,’ he said, ‘we shall find the painted, ruddled, bewigged old hag who has the audacity to ask me—me—in marriage.’
Constance caught his hand.
‘Edward! cousin! are you mad? Are you proposing to seek a prison at once? Hag? old? painted? ruddled? And this of the Duchess of Dunstanburgh? Are you aware that the least of these charges is actionable at common law? For my sake, Edward, if not your own, be careful.’
‘I will, sweet Constance. And for your sake, just to our two selves, I repeat that the painted——’
‘Oh!’
‘The ruddled——’
‘Oh, hush!’
‘The bewigged——’
‘Edward!’
‘Old hag—do you hear?—OLD HAG shall never marry me.’