He was horrified at the possible effects of his slip, which he hastened to repair. "You won't find it so easy to come at her, luckily," he said; "there's hundreds of Matildas in London alone." "Then," said the goddess, sweetly and calmly, "it is simple: I shall crush them all." "Oh, lor!" whimpered Leander, "here's a bloodthirsty person! Where's the sense of doing that?" "Because, dissipated reveller that you are, you love them." "Now, when did I ever say I loved them? I don't even know more than two or three, and those I look on as sisters--in fact" (here he hit upon a lucky evasion) "they _are_ sisters--it's only another name for them. I've a brother and three Matildas, and here are you talking of crushing my poor sisters as if they were so many beadles--all for nothing!" "Is this the truth? Palter not with me! You are pledged to no mortal bride?" "I'm a bachelor. And as for the ring, it belongs to my aunt, who's over fifty." "Then no one stands between us, and you are mine!" "Don't talk so ridiculous! I tell you I ain't yours--it's a free country, this is!" "If I--an immortal--can stoop thus, it becomes you not to reject the dazzling favour." A last argument occurred to him. "But I reelly don't think, mum," he said persuasively, "that you can be quite aware of the extent of the stoop. The fact is, I am, as I've tried to make you understand, a hairdresser; some might lower themselves so far as to call me a barber. Now, hairdressing, whatever may be said for it" (he could not readily bring himself to decry his profession)--"hairdressing is considribly below you in social rank. I wouldn't deceive you by saying otherwise. I assure you that, if you had any ideer what a barber was, you wouldn't be so pressing." She seemed to be struck by this. "You say well!" she observed, thoughtfully; "your occupation may be base and degrading, and if so, it were well for me to know it." "If you were once to see me in my daily avocations," he urged, "you'd see what a mistake you're making." "Enough! I will see you--and at once. Barb, that I may know the nature of your toil!" "I can't do that now," he objected; "I haven't got a customer." "Then fetch one, and barb with it immediately. You must have your tools by you; so delay not!" "A customer ain't a tool!" he groaned, "it's a fellow-man; and no one will come in to-night, because it's Sunday. (Don't ask me what Sunday is, because you wouldn't understand if I tried to tell you!) And I don't carry on my business up here, but below in the saloon." "I will go thither and behold you." "No!" he exclaimed. "Do you want to ruin me?" "I will make no sign; none shall recognise me for what I am. But come I will!"