You've already threatened me, you know, with the peerage, and I'm very sure you won't deign to honour me when that day comes.

Now, there's a good girl--to the end of the week at least.' It seemed as though Beatrice would persist.
'Now, if it were not such an unlikely thing,' said her aunt, 'I should be disposed to think it was Mr.Athel who is driving you away.' 'Mr.Athel!' the girl exclaimed, almost haughtily, and with a flush which disappeared as rapidly as it came, leaving the lovely face with a touch of exquisite paleness.
'I mean,' said Mrs.Baxendale quickly, averting her honest eyes, 'that I fear he has offended you.' 'How can Mr.Athel have offended me ?' Beatrice asked, with a certain severity.
'I thought perhaps--a remark he made last night on the revival.' Mrs.Baxendale felt ill at ease.

Her first sentence had been inconsiderate; she knew it as soon as it was uttered, and indeed did not quite see what could have induced her to make such a remark.

She had not the habit of nice conversation which endows with complete command of the tongue.

But her wits had, as you see, come to her rescue.
'Mr.Athel's opinions on that subject are not likely to offend me,' Beatrice replied, with the shadow of a smile.
'I am so afraid lest he should suspect anything of the kind.