“I’ve changed my mind. I said that before I perceived that I had you in my power. If you don’t hurry, I’ll exaggerate the attitude. Quick!”
She was laughing so that she could hardly arrange the yarn upon the framework so rigidly presented to her.
“Don’t hold your thumbs like sticks,” she besought him. “Have a little flexibility, if you have no pity. It’s some satisfaction to think you do look foolish.”
“I have the consolation of suspecting that you feel so. I’m quite willing to do the looking.”
Mrs. Farrell said nothing, but swiftly wound the yarn upon the ball, and, “Don’t hurry!” commanded Gilbert. “I’m not going to put my hands down till I like, anyway. So you may as well take your time.”
“Oh, Mr. Gilbert,” pleaded Mrs. Farrell. “How can you threaten me, when I’m so meekly letting you have your own way! I never should have supposed you were that kind of man.”
“Neither should I,” said Gilbert. “This is the first opportunity I’ve had to play the tyrant to one of your amiable sex, and I’m determined to abuse it.”
“Oh, that’s a likely story! With that conceited air of yours, when you are so good as to address a woman! Don’t be a humbug, if you are a faithless despot.”
“And don’t you employ harsh language in addressing me, Mrs. Farrell, or I’ll sit here all day with my hands outstretched to you.”
“All day? Oh—happy thought! Wind very slowly and tire him out!”