Of a Meeting near Fulham
gallant to make such terms. Love hath no conditions. I am used to be trusted, Ryder dear.”
And with that Old Rowley, who was seated very inperturbable, and patting a puppy-dog that was in the room, glanced up at me.
“That’s true enough, Ryder,” he says comically, and goes on with his fondling.
“There are times for trusting,” I answered, “and there are times also for caution, but maybe this is time for neither. I will not be hard on ye. You shall exchange this pretty plaything against a veritable number of kisses—a buss for each pearl,” I says.
“How dare you?” she cried imperiously.
“Hoity-toity!” says I, lifting my brows at her, and mimicking her voice. “No one says ‘dare’ to me; and ’tis but to anticipate the event by an hour or so, as you will agree.”
“Sir—” she began, very still, and then she turned quickly upon Old Rowley, who, stooping over his dog, was softly chuckling to himself.
“’Tis you have done this,” she cried angrily.
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