"
"I learnt to use my fists and to make love to the women."
"You're a brute!" she exclaimed with most unphilosophic vehemence.
"And that's why you worship the ground I tread on," he rejoined equably.
"And that's why I've always had a good time with the women ever since I
stood six foot in my stockin's when I was sixteen."
Lady Holme looked really indignant. Her face was contorted by a spasm.
She was one of those unfortunate women who are capable of retrospective
jealousy.
"I won't--how dare you speak to me of those women?" she said bitterly.
"You insult me."
"Hang it, there's no one since you, Vi. You know that. And what would you
have thought of a great, hulkin' chap like me who'd never--well, all
right. I'll dry up. But you know well enough you wouldn't have looked at
me."
"I wonder why I ever did."
"No, you don't. I'm just the chap to suit you. You're full of whimsies
and need a sledge-hammer fellow to keep you quiet. It you'd married that
ass, Carey, or that--"
"Fritz, once for all, I won't have my friends abused. I allowed you to
have your own way about Rupert Carey, but I will not have Robin Pierce or
anyone else insulted. Please understand that. I married to be more free,
not more--"
"You married because you'd fallen jolly well in love with me, that's why
you married, and that's why you're a damned lucky woman. Come to bed. You
won't, eh?"
He made a stride, snatched Lady Holme up as if she were a bundle, and
carried her off to bed.
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