“I was sick of the make-believe. “You are an impostor. Maggot, drawing up her fine figure to its full height; "because I condescend to live with you, am I never to look at another man,— especially at one so much to my taste as this? Don't think it!" "You had better retire, Madam," said the woollen-draper, sharply, "if you can't conduct yourself with more propriety. To receive him here afterwards would be most repugnant to me. She no more realizes what she has done than a child of eight. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. ‘Her purpose, if you will believe me, is to get herself a dowry so that she may marry an Englishman. "One-and-twenty, ah!" repeated Gay.
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