The Imp Disposes
"She does, does she?" he said. "And why, in heaven's name?"
"Because I'm so jealous," replied the Imp, tranquilly. "She says an angel would get out of temper with me."
The man made no remark for some time after this. It was as well that he did not, for he strode along so fast that the Imp panted in his efforts to keep up, and would never have been able to answer any. Finally he spoke.
"Do you believe that?" he asked. "Do you believe that a fellow should put up with anything and everything?"
"Huh?" said the Imp.
"If the only girl you ever—if the Countess Potocka, we'll say—" here the Imp scowled again—"treated everybody just as she treated you—"
"But she don't, she don't!" interrupted the Imp, quite out of patience with the haste and the obstinate allusion to the Countess. "I can hold her hand, and wear her ring, and I can kiss her—if I'm good. Nobody else can. She don't treat me the same!"
The man stopped abruptly and drew a long
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