"Well, don't squeeze my hand so frantically and don't agitate me so, for Heaven's sake! Oh, Hattersley! you were right; this woman will be the death of me, with her keen feelings and her interesting force of character—There, there, do spare me a little."
"Arthur, you must repent!" cried I, in a frenzy of desperation, throwing my arms around him and burying my face in his bosom. "You shall say you are sorry for what you have done!"
"Well, well, I am."
"You are not! you'll do it again."
"I shall never live to do it again, if you treat me so savagely," replied he, pushing me from him. "You've nearly squeezed the breath out of my body." He pressed his hand to his heart, and looked really agitated and ill.
"Now get me a glass of wine," said he, "to remedy what you've done, you she tiger! I'm almost ready to faint."
I flew to get the required remedy. It seemed to revive him considerably.
