“Really?” she said.
“Really,” said he, looking the other way.
A sudden change came over Dolly’s face. Her dimples vanished; her eyes grew pathetic and began to shine rather than to sparkle; her lip quivered just a little.
“You’re very unkind,” she said in an extremely low tone. “I had no idea you would be so unkind.”
Rhadamanthus seemed very uncomfortable.
“Don’t do that,” he said, quite sharply, fidgeting with the blotting paper.
Dolly began to move slowly round the table. Rhadamanthus sat still. When she was standing close by him, she put her hand lightly on his arm and said:
“Please do, Mr. Rhadamanthus.”
“It’s as much as my place is worth,” he grumbled.
Dolly’s eyes shone still, but the faintest little smile began to play about her mouth.
“Some day,” she said (with total inappropriateness, now I come to think of it, though it did not strike me so at the time), “you’ll be glad to remember having done a kind thing. When you’re old--because you are not really old now--you will say, ‘I’m glad I didn’t send poor Dolly Mickleham away crying.’”
Rhadamanthus uttered an inarticulate sound--half impatience, half, I fancy, something else.
“We are none of us perfect, I dare say. If I asked your wife--”
“I haven’t got a wife,” said Rhadamanthus.
“That’s why you’re so hard-hearted,” said Dolly. “A man who’s got a wife is never hard on other women.”
There was another pause. Then Rhadamanthus, looking straight at the blotting paper, said:
“Oh, well, don’t bother me. Be off with you;” and as he spoke, the door behind him opened.
“Oh, you old dear!” she cried; and, stooping swiftly, she kissed Rhadamanthus. “You’re horribly bristly!” she laughed; and then, before he could move, she ran through the door.
I rose from my seat, taking my hat and stick in my hand. I felt, as you may suppose, that I had been there long enough. When I moved Rhadamanthus looked up, and with an attempt at unconsciousness observed:
“We will proceed with your case now, if you please, Mr. Carter.”
I looked him full in the face. Rhadamanthus blushed. I pursued my way towards the door.
“Stop!” he said, in a blustering tone. “You can’t go there, you know.”
I smiled significantly.
“Isn’t it rather too late for that sort of thing?” I asked. “You seem to forget that I have been here for the last quarter of an hour.”
“I didn’t know she was going to do it,” he protested.
“Oh, of course,” said I, “that will be your story. Mine, however, I shall tell in my own way.”
Rhadamanthus blushed again. Evidently he felt that he was in a delicate position. We were standing thus, facing one another, when the door began to open again, and Dolly put her head out.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” she said. “I thought I heard your voice. Come along and help me to find Archie.”
Dolly Dialogues · The Wunder Library — complete classics, free to read, with narration.