"Why don't you answer at once--yes or no ?" "My dear lady," with a deprecating wave of his shapely hand, "don't be so dreadfully blunt.

Pray tell me of what you accuse me--of forcibly abducting Miss Dane last night at ten o'clock?
With my hand on my heart, madame, on the word of a man and brother--on the honor of an artist--I solemnly asseverate I didn't do it!" Miriam groaned.
"Then what has become of that unfortunate child?
She thought it was you, or she never would have gone." The fair, refined face of the artist flushed deep red, and he was grave in an instant.
"Madame, what do you say ?" "Oh, you know!" cried the woman, vehemently.

"You surely know, else all you men are blinder than bats.

You know she loved you well." "Oh, madame!" The young man caught his breath.
"She told me so herself," cried Miriam, recklessly betraying this, and wringing her hands; "and she went last night, hoping it was you." The momentary expression of rapture had quite faded out of Mr.Ingelow's face by this time, and, leaning against his easel, he was listening with cool attention.

But if Miriam could have known how this man's heart was plunging against his ribs! "I think there is a mistake somewhere," said Hugh, with _sang-froid_.
"Miss Dane refused me." "Bah!" said Miriam, with infinite scorn; "much you know of women, to take that for a test! But it isn't to talk of love I came here.