Lady Camper, I . . .'
'My name is Angela.'
The General tried again: he could not utter the name.
To call a lady of seventy Angela is difficult in itself. It is, it seems,
thrice difficult in the way of courtship.
'Angela!' said she.
'Yes. I say, there is not a more beautiful female name, dear Lady
Camper.'
'Spare me that word "female" as long as you live. Address me by that
name, if you please.'
The General smiled. The smile was meant for propitiation and sweetness.
It became a brazen smile.
'Unless you wish to step back,' said she.
'Indeed, no. I am happy, Lady Camper. My life is yours. I say, my life is
devoted to you, dear madam.'
'Angela!'
General Ople was blushingly delivered of the name.
'That will do,' said she. 'And as I think it possible one may be admired
too much as an artist, I must request you to keep my number of years a
secret.'
'To the death, madam,' said the General.
'And now we will take a turn in the garden, Wilson Ople. And beware of
one thing, for a commencement, for you are full of weeds, and I mean to
pluck out a few: never call any place a gentlemanly residence in my
hearing, nor let it come to my ears that you have been using the phrase
elsewhere.
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