"
"How can you say that?" protested Isaacs. "You know with what respectful
and almost devotional reverence I look upon all women, and," his eyes
brightening perceptibly, "upon you in particular."
English women, especially in their youth, are not used to pretty
speeches. They are so much accustomed to the men of their own
nationality that they regard the least approach to a compliment as the
inevitable introduction to the worst kind of insult. Miss Westonhaugh
was no exception to this rule, and she drew herself up proudly.
There was a moment's pause, during which Isaacs seemed penitent, and she
appeared to be revolving the bearings of the affront conveyed in his
last words. She looked along the floor, slowly, till she might have seen
his toes; then her eyes opened a moment and met his, falling again
instantly with a change of colour.
"And pray, Mr. Isaacs, would you mind giving us a list of the ladies you
look upon with 'respectful and devotional reverence?'" One of the horses
held by the saice at the corner of the lawn neighed lowly, and gave
Isaacs an opportunity of looking away.
"Miss Westonhaugh," he said quietly, "you know I am a Mussulman, and
that I am married. It may be that I have borrowed a phrase from your
language which expresses more than I would convey, though it would ill
become me to withdraw my last words, since they are true.
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