“Passably. ’Tis dull sometimes--too much confinement, and not enough fresh air.” “You’d like to be released, perhaps, from your duties?” “Should I? What makes you think so?” “It has occurred to me. Supposing I were to tell you you might go?” “Supposing? Well, I shouldn’t go, that’s all.” “You wouldn’t? Do you mean to say you’d defy me?” “Yes, I do mean to say it.” She came close before him, put her little fists behind her back, and tilted her chin at him. “What’s all this about? Aren’t I wanted any more, or have you changed your mind? That ’ud be a pity, because I’m not the sort, you know, to be taken or left just as it suits a man’s convenience.” She laughed--not pleasantly. “Has it never occurred to you, George, that you happen to be just a little bit in my power?” “The devil I am!” “So am I--on occasion. You might find that out if you provoked me.” “Why, what could you do?” “I could blab, couldn’t I--make havoc of your little plot?” He was a trifle staggered. Here was something overlooked in his calculations. He had only designed, in fact, to stimulate her efforts; this threatened rebellion revealed some mistake in his methods. “And lose for ever your chance of promotion,” said he. “Well, if you wish to make me your enemy----” She nodded her head once or twice. “I don’t. But I’d lose twenty kings sooner than sit quiet under a dirty trick like that.” “Do you propose staying on, then, till this imposture is discovered, as every day makes more probable? As well betray me at once.” “You know I wouldn’t do that. But I like the fun and I like the life, and I see no more risk of discovery now than when I came. Why do you want me to go?” “I never said I did. I don’t, as a matter of fact, if you will only not like these things so well as half to forget your purpose in them.” “My purpose? That’s to make the lord creature in love with me. Well, haven’t I?” “I miss the conclusive evidence--the proof of the pudding that’s in the eating.” “That wasn’t in the bargain. Be fair, George. I’m doing all that was asked of me, and doing it faithful.” She was, in fact; yet he had actually hoped for more. She was so excessively alluring that he could not believe Chesterfield capable, in spite of his apparent insensibility, of ultimately resisting her charms, were she fully resolved he should not. “And is that,” he said, “suggesting the little piece too much? You’ve grown very fastidious of a sudden. I told you I was beginning to doubt.” She looked at him queerly a moment. “Isn’t it going as well with you as you expected?” she asked. “Your finishing him could do my cause no harm, at least,” said he, and bit his lip. “Well, I vow I’m sometimes a’most sorry for her,” she said. “She’s but my own age, and--and the man’s in love with her all the time, and at a word she’d be with him. Don’t I know that? What a brace of blackguards we are, George!”