Bold," cries she, "when did you ask me?"
"I ask you now," I said, and with that I took her under my arm and
strode among the dancers with so fierce and determined an air (as
Mistress Lucetta told me) that, being more than common tall, I was
much observed and humorously criticized by the company. I suppose I
carried the same fierceness into my dancing, for after footing it
for the space of a minute, Mistress Lucetta begged me to stop,
saying she had no fancy for dancing with a whirlwind.
"Take me to a seat, Mr. Bold. I am going to talk to you," she said.
And talk to me she did, in a way that mightily surprised me.
"Do you think I don't see through you, Mr. Bold?" she said. "You
are most desperately jealous of Mr. Cludde; you know you are; and
of every other man in the room; and you show it, which is a very,
very silly thing to do. Oh, don't speak; you would only tell me
stories. Listen to me. Lucy is a dear friend of mine, and I know
all about everything. You are a disgrace to your name, sir."
"Why, what have I done?" I asked, amazed at the sternness she had
suddenly thrown into her voice. And she burst into a ripple of
laughter.
"I do think you are the stupidest man alive," she said. "Is not
your name Bold, and are you not timid, and backward, and humble,
and despondent, and a great big baby! Why, Lucy thinks the world of
you; she is never tired of hearing that red-haired man Punchard
talk of you; and yet you are glum, and scowl at her, and glower at
the men who are cheerful and try to amuse her, and whom she doesn't
care a button for.
Pages:
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365