Page:The Yellow Book - 13.djvu/45

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By Henry Harland
33

called after the cockchafer. "She’s practising upon your credulity. Your house isn’t on fire, and your children are all safe at school."

"Your consideration is entirely misplaced," she assured him, with the same slight whimsical smile. "The cockchafer knows perfectly well that his house isn’t on fire, because he hasn’t got any house. Cockchafers never have houses. His apparent concern is sheer affectation. He’s an exceedingly hypocritical little cockchafer."

"I should call him an exceedingly polite little cockchafer. Hypocrisy is the compliment courtesy owes to falsehood. He pretended to believe you. He would not have the air of doubting a lady’s word."

"You came as the emissary of the carp," she said; "and now you stay to defend the character of their rival."

"To be candid, I don't care a hang for the carp," he confessed brazenly. "The unadorned fact is that I am immensely glad to see you."

She gave a little laugh, and bowed with exaggerated ceremony "Grand merci, Monsieur; vous me faites trap d’honneur" she murmured.

"Oh, no, not more than you deserve. I’m a just man, and I give you your due. I was boring myself into melancholy madness. The afternoon lay before me like a bumper of dust and ashes, that I must somehow empty. And then I saw you, and you dashed the goblet from my lips. Thank goodness (I said to myself), at last there’s a human soul to talk with; the very thing I was pining for, a clever and sympathetic woman."

"You take a great deal for granted," laughed she.

"Oh, I know you're clever, and it pleases me to fancy that you're sympathetic. If you’re not," he pleaded, "don't tell me so. Let me cherish my illusion."

She