"Impossible, madam!" And, as they say in the law reports, gave his
reasons.
"Certain, sir!" And gave no reasons.
He still resisted.
Thereupon she told him she should sit there all day and chaff his
clients one after another, and that his connection with the Bassett and
Huntercombe estates should end.
Then he saw he had to do with a termagant, and consented, with a sigh.
She drove him westward, wincing every now and then at her close
driving, and told him all, and showed him what she was pleased to call
her little game. He told her it was too romantic. Said he, "You ladies
read nothing but novels; but the real world is quite different from the
world of novels." Having delivered this remonstrance--which was
tolerably just, for she never read anything but novels and sermons--he
submitted like a lamb, and received her instructions.
She drove as fast as she talked, so that by this time they were at
Admiral Bruce's door.
Now Mr. Oldfield took the lead, as per instructions. "Mr. Oldfield,
solicitor, and a lady--on business."
The porter delivered this to the footman with the accuracy which all
who send verbal messages deserve and may count on. "Mr. Oldfield and
lady."
The footman, who represented the next step in oral tradition, without
which form of history the Heathen world would never have known that
Hannibal softened the rocks with vinegar, nor the Christian world that
eleven thousand virgins dwelt in a German town the size of Putney,
announced the pair as "Mr.
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