"It's all over the town that you stole the lady from Dale Kynnersley."
"If I did," said I, "it was at his mother's earnest entreaty. You can
tell folks that. You can also tell them Madame Brandt is not the kind
of woman to be stolen by one man from another. She is a thoroughly
virtuous, good, and noble woman, and there's not a creature living who
wouldn't be honoured by her friendship."
As I made this announcement with an impetuosity which reminded me (with
a twinge of remorse) of poor Dale's dithyrambics, Agatha shot at me a
quick glance of apprehension.
"But, my dear Simon, she used to act in a circus with a horse!"
"I fail to see," said I, growing angry, "how the horse could have imbued
her with depravity, and I'm given to understand that the tone of the
circus is not quite what it used to be in the days of the Empress
Theodora."
A ripple passed over Agatha's bare shoulders, which I knew to be a
suppressed shrug.
"I suppose men and women look at these things differently," she
remarked, and from the stiffness of her tone I divined that the idea
of moral qualities lurking in the nature of Lola Brandt occasioned her
considerable displeasure.
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