" "Hear me, Madam, I beseech you," interposed Mrs. I cannot let you go. “No. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. He could not promise that she would ever appear again in that house. Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. She will cry for days and nights together. ‘Aye, sir.
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