Georgiana.
Oh, very well, Augustin. I’ve done all I can for the Spire. Bon soir, old boy!
The Dean.
Good-night.
Georgiana.
If you’re wiser in the morning just send Blore on to the course and he’ll put the money on for you.
The Dean.
Blore! My poor devoted old servant would be lost on a race-course.
Georgiana.
Would he! He was quite at home in Tattersall’s Ring when I was at St. Marvells last summer.