"
"But what--"
"And last night I slept at Baker's Farm, and spent a very pleasant
evening with Mrs. Pearce."
"But why--"
"She's an instructive woman. Her weakest point, I should say, is her
junkets."
"I wonder why you bother to talk like this--to be sarcastic."
"About the junkets? Didn't you think they were bad?"
"Do you suppose it's worth while to--to kick somebody who's down? And
so low down? So completely got to the bottom?"
"Kick? On my soul I assure you that the very last thing I want to do
is to kick you."
"Then why do you do it?"
"I don't do it. Do you know what I've come for?"
"Is my father round the corner?"
"Nobody's round the corner. I've muzzled your father. I've come quite
by myself. And do you know why?"
"No," said Priscilla, shortly, defiantly; adding before he could
speak, "I can't imagine." And adding to that, again before he could
speak, "Unless it's for the fun of hunting down a defenceless quarry."
"I say, that's rather picturesque," said the Prince with every
appearance of being struck.
Priscilla blushed.
Pages:
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375