“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. She responded at once, rapping him on the knuckles with her fan. Where is this undistinguished husband?’ Leaping to his feet he seized his sword hilt and partly withdrew it from its sheath, saying dramatically, ‘I shall kill him immediately!’ Her eyes widened, but she did not move. "Drink this, then," roared Blueskin. " "It is past," rejoined Lady Trafford, recovering herself by a powerful effort; "but never allude to the circumstance again.
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