It is quite possible that Count Storri will drop in!" "Madam," shouted Mr.Harley explosively, "I shall shoot that scoundrel Storri if he puts hand to my front gate!" "John!" screamed Mrs.Hanway-Harley.
"Madam, I shall shoot him like a rat!" Mr.Harley got this off with such fury that it struck Mrs.Hanway-Harley speechless.

She was the more amazed, since she knew nothing of either Mr.Harley's wrongs or his burgundy.

After surveying her with the utmost majesty for a moment, Mr.Harley came back to Dorothy.
"There's a gentleman named Mr.Storms ?" "Yes, papa!" (timidly).
"You love him ?" "Yes, papa!" (feebly).
"You shall marry him!" "Yes, papa!" (blushingly).
"John!" (with horror).
"Invite him to dinner to-morrow." "Yes, papa!" (rapturously).
"And every other evening you choose!" "Yes, papa!" (more rapturously).
"John!" (with a gasp).
"And now, madam," observed Mr.Harley, wheeling on Mrs.Hanway-Harley with politeness sudden and vast, "I am ready to attend to you.

Let me commence by mentioning that I am master of this house, and shall give dinners when I will to whomsoever I please." "But you said marriage, John, and Mr.Storms is a pauper! Think what you do!" "It may entertain you, madam," returned Mr.Harley, in a manner of grim triumph, "to hear that you also are a pauper.

Yes, madam, you, I, Pat Hanway--we are all paupers.