As if it were
any concern of hers!"
Judith laughed below her breath and called me a simpleton.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because you haven't got a temperament."
This was a foolish answer, having no bearing on the question. I
told her so. She replied that she was years older than I, and
had learned the eternal relevance of all things. I pointed out
that she was years younger.
"How many heart-beats have you had in your life--real, wild,
pulsating heart-beats--eternity in an hour?"
"That's Blake," I murmured.
"I'm aware of it. Answer my question."
"It's a silly question."
"It isn't. The next time you see a female baby in a
perambulator, take off your hat respectfully."
I am afraid I am clumsy at repartee.
"And the next time you engage a cook, my dear Judith," said I,
"send for a mere man."
She coloured up. I dissolved myself in apologies. Her wounded
susceptibilities required careful healing. The situation was
somewhat odd. She had not scrupled to attack the innermost
weaknesses of my character, and yet when I retaliated by a hit at
externals, she was deeply hurt, and made me feel a ruffianly
blackguard.
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