My dear Mr. Queckett, it would ill become an old man—himself the father of a daughter, nearly, if not quite, of the age of the young lady opposite me—to lose an opportunity of saying a few words on the pleasant, the—the extremely pleasant—condition of the British Naval Forces—ah'm! no—
MALLORY.
[To himself.] I knew that would happen.
RANKLING.
Pardon me, I have been speaking on other subjects to-night. I should say, the extremely pleasant occasion which brings us together.
QUECKETT.
Certainly, my dear Rankling, how nice of you!
RANKLING.
Not only am I the commander—the father—of a ship—of a daughter whom it is my ambition to see happily wedded to the man of her choice—