“Zounds, sir, what do you mean?” cried the latter.
“I beg your par—” began the other, meekly, when his arm was seized, and the injured man exclaimed, “Bless me, sir, is it indeed you whom I see?”
“Ha!—Lumley?”
“The same; and how fares it, any dear uncle? I did not know you were in London. I only arrived last night. How well you are looking!”
“Why, yes, Heaven be praised, I am pretty well.”
“And happy in your new ties? You must present me to Mrs. Templeton.”
“Ehem,” said Mr. Templeton, clearing his throat, and with a slight but embarrassed smile, “I never thought I should marry again.”
“L’homme propose et Dieu dispose,” observed Lumley Ferrers; for it was he.
“Gently, my dear nephew,” replied Mr. Templeton, gravely; “those phrases are somewhat sacrilegious; I am an old-fashioned person, you know.”
“Ten thousand apologies.”