THE ROMAN CAMP.
57
pleasant to those who are used to it; but it is not to my taste.
CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.
You always delighted in trying to provoke me; but I cannot believe that you have not a heart.
LADY CLARINDA.
You do not like to believe that I have a heart, you mean. You wish to think I have lost it, and you know to whom; and when I tell you that it is still safe in my own keeping, and that I do not mean to give it away, the unreasonable creature grows angry.
CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.
Angry! far from it: I am perfectly cool.
LADY CLARINDA.
Why you are pursing your brows, biting your lips, and lifting up your foot as if you would stamp it into the earth. I must say
