“Don’t say it, Laurence!” she cried, springing up and laying her head on his mouth. “I have been waiting, waiting, waiting, trying to bring my courage to the sticking-point, and hoping to bring you and my father quietly together. I see I have been wrong. I--I will tell him to-morrow--yes, there is my hand on it; and if he turns me out, as is most probable, I shall be sitting here making your tea to-morrow evening! You believe me, Laurence?” standing over him as he leant his head in his hand, and looked into the fire. “There have been so many to-morrows, Maddie. I’m like the man in the fable about the boy and the wolves; but”--suddenly pulling himself together, and confronting her--“I will believe that this time it really _is_ wolf.” Standing up and looking at her, he added, “I will believe you, and trust you. And now”--ringing the bell as he spoke--“you shall have your coffee, and I am going to take you home in a hansom.” “Home! It’s too early yet--ten past nine. Take me to the theatre for an hour. Take me to the Haymarket; it will be such fun!” “Fun!” he echoed impatiently. “Supposing any one was to see you--any of your friends--what would they think? They do not know that I am your husband; they would only take me for some admirer, who, presuming on your father’s absence, had escorted you to the theatre, under the rose--that would be capital fun!” “What harm would it be? I like puzzling people. I like to give them something to talk about,” she answered recklessly. “And I do not. And I suppose I know a little more of the world than you do. You seem to think it would be a joke to fling down your good name, and allow it to be destroyed from pure wantonness, but I shall not permit it.” “Laurence how you do talk! One would think you were addressing a jury, or were some old fogey laying down the law!” “I am laying down the law.” “You must please remember that I am accustomed to be spoiled. Now, _my_ wishes are law in Belgrave Square, and you are going to carry them out, and take me to see ‘The Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith.’” “Take care that you do not become the notorious Miss West.” “Now, Laurence, you know you cannot really say ‘no’ to me. Oh!”--with a slight start--“here comes the coffee at last!” as the laundress, who insisted upon doing this little errand in person, in order to have what she called “a rare good look,” fumbled at the door, pushed it open with her knee, and marched in, carrying a small tray, which she laid very slowly on the table, her eyes all the while being fixed on the beautiful vision standing by the fire. She had her face turned away; but Mr. Wynne, who was leaning his head on his hand, and his elbow on the mantelpiece, confronted her steadily and said, in a less cordial tone than usual, “There, Mrs. Potts, that will do! You need not wait. Call a hansom as soon as you go downstairs,” and Mrs. Potts very reluctantly shuffled out. She had seen a good deal, but was as much at sea as ever.