Impudence was not offended; but her sauce was up. She turned to counter, and the two faced one another. “Deny it? Not I,” she said. “What if it is?” “What? How dare you speak to me? Is not your presence here offence enough?” “What have I done now?” “Done? No wonder your right cheek flushes for its shame.” “He kissed it--not I. Another moment, if you hadn’t come in, and I’d have clouted his ears for him.” “What made him kiss you?” “That’s for him to say. You can ask him if you like.” “_I!_” “Old acquaintance’ sake, he’ll tell you, perhaps.” “Ah!” “What are you ‘ahing’ about? Did it look like a habit between us? Take my word, if you care, that he’s never kissed me in his life before.” “Care? Not I.” “I thought you looked as if you didn’t.” “His kisses and his fancies are subjects of supreme indifference to me.” “What’s the matter, then?” “My self-respect is the matter--a thing beyond your comprehension. To have to sit and suffer such a guest--in silence--as though I seemed to countenance her presence! That is the matter.” Mrs. Davis, half-whimpering, put her knuckles to her eyes. “Why don’t you speak to him, then,” she said, “and have me turned out? O, dear, O, dear! A nice way this to treat a harmless visitor!” Harmless! For the first time a wonder seized her little ladyship. Was she really maligning in her heart a rustic simpleton? No, there was something here _adroite_, practised, something indescribable, which precluded the idea. And yet the thought had come to puzzle and disturb her. Though she could not believe, her tone was less uncompromising when she spoke again. “I speak to him? It is not for such as you to understand. To answer to an insult is to flatter it. Let him answer for his own, so it be one, to himself and you. Never fear that I shall complain.” She turned away and back again. “I ask no questions about you,” she said. “I desire to hear and know nothing. Your conduct, if you speak truth, need be your only voucher.” She took up her gloves, preparing to leave the room, then stopped, as if on a resistless impulse, and looked into the slut’s eyes. “You have a pretty face, child,” she said. “I know not whence it comes, or what designs; but I would fain think no evil of it.” And she gathered up her things and went, without another word. It had been a brief interview, but a stupefying. For some moments after she was left alone Moll stood motionless, as if afraid to stir. Then, gradually, expression came back to her face, and she gave a soft whistle. “Lud! the first is over,” she murmured; “and I would I could think the worst. I stand to have my eyes scratched out, seemeth to me. But, never mind. George must be accommodated, and the fool lord caught in the snare of his own laying. We’ve not, for that matter, begun so badly.”