ke this.
But I gave you a chance, I did. An' if you think ter try an' turn me
own words agains' me an' talk 'igh about contrax, yer kin jus' shove
orf." She regarded him furiously. "Ugh! I'm fed up with the bunch
of yer. Nasty, ungrateful swabs! I serpose yer kin 'ave Monday, can't
yer?"

"I will take Monday, madam."

The malevolent pig's eyes followed him in silence till he was out of
the room....

It was on Monday, then, that Lyveden called for his dog.

His decision to revisit the scene of his encounter with my lady was not
fully formed until it was time to act upon it. He had deliberately
walked in the direction of the inn, so that, when the hour came, he
could, if he chose, indulge the inclination of which he was wholly
ashamed. Honestly, he reflected, he had not a good word to say for the
girl. (Observe, please, that the fact that the pleasaunce was to his
liking did not weigh with him. The little inn and its curtilage had
become but environs.) She had been unreasonable and worse than
churlish. There was no getting away from it--she had been aggressively
rude, administering a rebuff though he had made no advance. To pile
Ossa upon Pelion, she now knew him for what he was--a flunkey, acting
the gentleman and sporting a dog. And was not that a dainty dish for
him to digest, sitting under the lime-trees in full view of that garden
doorway which nine days ago had been so honoured? That, of course, was
the trouble. Anthony had seen a picture which he could not forget.
The girl had done her best to efface it, but had only succeeded in
clouding a sunny memory.

With something of the _mauvaise honte_ with which a player of
"Patience" corrects a mistake he has made by restoring some cards,
Anthony took Ossa off Pelion, said to himself, "I don't believe she
recognized me," and, walking into the inn, desired the mistress to
bring him some tea.

By the time he had finished his meal he had sunk so low in his own
eyes--lost so much self-respect, that the rest did not seem worth
keeping, and he inquired whether anything had been seen of the lady
whose dog his had fought, in much the same spirit of recklessness as
moves a bravo to toss his last piece to a beggar.

"She had tea here the day before yesterday, sir," replied his hostess.
"All alone, with her little dog. I don't think he's none the worse,
sir. Thank you. Good day, sir."

Anthony left the house like a man in a dream....

Why had she com