"I shall deny nothing that you see fit to charge against me, sir," rejoined
the lady, still hurt and indignant, and the more irresistible.

Archibald reflected that she was not, perhaps, justly responsible for the
malevolence of another person, even though that person were her husband;
and from this thought to thinking that she might, perhaps, be inclined to
sympathize against her husband and with himself, was an easy transition.
This perilous fancy made his pulses throb and his eyes gleam. He caught
her horse's bridle.

"Do not go yet! Let us talk a little, since we are met."

"What has Sir Archibald Malmaison to say to me?"

"You called me 'Archibald' just now."

"You called me 'Mrs. Richard Pennroyal'!"

"Well--and so you are!" said he, between his teeth.

"Do you think of me by that name?" she asked, turning her brown eyes on him
for a moment, and then looking away.

"Kate!"

She put out her beautiful hand, and he took it and carried it to his lips.
Thoughts fierce and sweet flew through his mind. But Mrs. Pennroyal,
having gained her immediate end (which, to do her justice, was probably
nothing worse than the gratification of a coquettish whim), knew how to
take care of herself. She drew her hand away.