“I wish you would make the word ‘delighted’ clearer, duke,” said the other, putting on an air of dignity more grotesque than the speaker’s, which the latter thought grotesque as he did not like pretences.
“Baron,” he drily replied, “I am not strong on language and not even good at spelling. For me, delighted signifies pleased beyond measure. If you would not be delighted beyond measure to see your sovereign content with the grace, beauty and virtue of your offspring, say so. I will go back to his Majesty,” and he spun round on his red heels with quite youthful sprightliness.
“Duke, you don’t understand me—hang it! how sudden you are,” grumbled Taverney, stopping him.
“Why do you say you are not pleased?”
“I never said so.”
“You ask comments on the King’s good pleasure—plague on the dunce who questions it!”
“Again, I tell you, I never opened my mouth on that subject. It is certain that I am pleased.”
“Yes, you—for any man of sense would be: but your girl?”
“Humph!”
“My dear fellow, you have brought up the child like the savage that you are.”