Then God or the devil, I care not which, may finish me." At that moment Betty came in, followed by one of the maids carrying our dinner.

I asked George to eat with me, but he refused and lay down on the bed, drawing the rugs up to his chin and shaking in an ague.

The maid left us, but Betty remained, evidently expecting to wait on us and incidentally to talk, for she dearly loved to relieve her mind.
As much as I liked Betty, I asked her to leave us, and when she was gone, I drew my chair to George's bedside, leaving the dinner to cool.
"First, I want to tell you again," said I, "that Frances is not the king's mistress, nor ever will be." "Do you know, or do you believe ?" he asked.
"I know," I answered, and followed up my assertion with a full account of her life at court, the king's infatuation, at which she laughed, his offer of a pension, which at first she refused, the respect in which every one held her, and the wisdom with which she carried herself through it all.
"Ned, you're as great a fool about her as I was," he returned, shaking his head.

"Do you suppose Charles Stuart would give her a pension with no other purpose than kindness or justice?
Be sane! Don't be a fool!" "I say nothing of his purposes; I speak only of her conduct.

But I shall not argue with you.