"A shut fist's good in fight and bad in friendship.

Do ye know that?
Open your hand." "Excuse me," persisted Emilia.
"Pooh! take the money, or I'll say ye're in a conspiracy to make me blindman's-buff of the parrty.

Take ut." "I don't want it." "Maybe, it's not enough ?" "I don't want any, ma'am." "Ma'am, to the deuce with ye! I'll be callin' ye a forr'ner in a minute, I will." Emilia walked away from a volley of terrific threats.
For some reason, unfathomed by her, she wanted to be alone with Wilfrid and put a question to him.

No other, in sooth, than the infallible test.
Not, mind you, that she wished to be married.

But something she had heard (she had forgotten what it was) disturbed her, and that recent trifling with pain, in her excess of happiness, laid her open to it.