"Don't you perceive, my dear Mrs. Maggot, that I'm engaged," said Kneebone, a little disconcerted.
"Who've you got with you?" demanded the Amazon, boldly.
"The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. "I don't know his name." And he looked at the moment as if he had lost all desire to know it.
"Well, he's a pretty fellow at all events," observed Mrs. Maggot, eyeing him from head to heel with evident satisfaction;—"a devilish pretty fellow!"
"Upon my word, Poll," said Kneebone, becoming very red, "you might have a little more delicacy than to tell him so before my face."
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Maggot, drawing up her fine figure to its full height; "because I condescend to live with you, am I never to look at another man,—especially at one so much to my taste as this? Don't think it!"
"You had better retire, Madam," said the woollen-draper, sharply, "if you can't conduct yourself with more propriety."
"Order those who choose to obey you," rejoined the lady scornfully. "Though you lorded it over that fond fool, Mrs. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. That for you!" And she snapped her fingers in his face.
"Zounds!" cried Kneebone, furiously. "Go to your own room, woman, directly, or I'll make you!"
"Make me!" echoed Mrs. Maggot, bursting into a loud contemptuous laugh. "Try!"