"I had rather a scene with Alfred yesterday morning. He said you drank, and gambled, and were always running after--people, and weren't in fine, a desirable person for me to know. He insinuated, in fact, that you were a villain of the very deepest and non-crocking dye. He told me of instances. His performance would have done credit to Ananias. I was mad! So I gave him his old ring back, and told him things I can't tell you,--no, not just yet, dear. He is rather like a muffin, isn't he?" she said, with the lightest possible little laugh--"particularly like one that isn't quite done."
"Oh, Rosalind," I babbled, "I mean to prove that you were right. And I will prove it, too!"
And indeed I meant all that I said--just then.
Rosalind said: "Oh, Jaques, Jaques! what a child you are!"
