“Do you deny that it's true, Basil?”
“Do you believe that it's true, Isabel?”
“No matter. But could you excuse it if it were?”
“Ah, I see you'd have been capable of it in my place, and you're ashamed.”
“Yes,” sighed the wife, “I'm afraid that I should. But tell me that you wouldn't, Basil!”
“I can tell you that I wasn't. But I suppose that in a real exigency, I could truckle to the proprietary Dryfooses as well as you.”
“Oh no; you mustn't, dear! I'm a woman, and I'm dreadfully afraid. But you must always be a man, especially with that horrid old Mr. Dryfoos. Promise me that you'll never yield the least point to him in a matter of right and wrong!”
“Not if he's right and I'm wrong?”
“Don't trifle, dear! You know what I mean. Will you promise?”
“I'll promise to submit the point to you, and let you do the yielding. As for me, I shall be adamant. Nothing I like better.”