that she was a woman. He cringed
before her, yet with an obstinately vicious look in his would-be humble
eyes.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Driver--indeed I do. I--I've been wrong. Don't
be hard on me. There's my poor wife and family! You shall have no
further cause of complaint. As for threatening, why, how could I? What
could I do against you, Miss Driver?"

Did his humility, hardly less disagreeable than his insolence, disarm
her wrath? Did her mood change--or had the moment come for an artistic
dissimulation? I must confess that I do not know; but suddenly she
struck him playfully on the point of the chin with her glove and began
to laugh. "Then, you dear silly old Powers, don't be such a fool," she
said. "Don't quarrel with your bread and butter, and don't take so much
whisky and water. Because whisky brings vapors, and then you think
you're a great man, and get romancing about what you could do if you
liked. I've stood a good deal from you, haven't I? I would stand a good
deal for old times' sake. You know that; but is it kind to presume on
it, to push me too far just because you know I like you?"

This speech I defend less than the unladylike one; I liked her better on
the subject of the thrashing. But there is no denying that it was very
well done. Was it wholly insincere? Perhaps not. In any event she meant
to conquer Powers, and was not without reason, or precedent, in trying
to see if blarney would aid threats.

He responded plausibly, summoning his mock gentlemanliness to cover his
submission, and, I may add, his malice. He regretted his mistakes, he
deplored misunderstanding, he avowed unlimited obligation and eternal
gratitude. He even ventured on hinting at the memory of a sentimental
attachment. "I can take from you what I would from no other lady." (At
no moment, however agitated, would Powers forget to say "lady.") The
remark was accompanied by an unmistakable leer.

Even that, which I bore with difficulty, Jenny accepted graciously. She
gave him her hand, saying, "I know. Now let's forget all this and work
pleasantly together." She glanced at me. "And Mr. Austin, too, will
forget all about our little quarrel?"

"I'm always willing to be friends with Mr. Powers, if he'll let me," I
said.

"And so are all my friends, I'm sure," said Jenny.

Going out, we had a strange encounter, which stands forth vivid in
memory. Jenny's brougham was waiting perhaps some thirty yards up the
road toward Catsford: