“Mrs. Templeton pretty well?”
“I fancy so.”
“As ladies wish to be, etc.?” whispered his lordship.
“No, thank Heaven!”
“Well, if the old man could but make you his heir, we might think twice about the title.”
“My dear lord, stop! one favour—write me a line to hint that delicately.”
“No—no letters; letters always get into the papers.”
“But cautiously worded—no danger of publication, on my honour.”
“I’ll think of it. Good night.”