"Why, what charm can you add that is not there?" asks she.
"Something," says he, in a low voice, "which I must see whenever I do cast my eyes heavenwards."
And now Moll, big with her purpose, which she had hitherto withheld from Dario, begs him to come into her state room, and there she told how she would have this ceiling plastered over and painted, like her dining-hall, if he would undertake to do it.
Dario casts his eye round the room and over the ceiling, and then, shaking his head, says: "If I were in your place, I would alter nothing here."
"But I will have it altered," says she, nettled, because he did not leap at once at her offer, which was made rather to prolong their communion than to obtain a picture. "I detest these old-fashioned beams of wood."
"They are in keeping with the character of the room. I think," adds he, looking round him again with renewed admiration, "I think I have never seen a more perfect example of English art."
"What of that," cries she, "if it pleases me to have it otherwise?"
"Nothing," returns he, calmly. "You have as just a right to stand by your opinion as I by mine."
"And am I to understand that you will rather hold by your opinion than give me pleasure?"
"I pray you, do not press me to discourtesy," says he.
"Nay, but I would have a plain answer to my question," says she, haughtily.
"Then," says he, angering in his turn, "I must tell you that I would as soon chip an antique statue to suit the
