“It is but seldom,” said he, “that I come to these places; to-night my sister persuaded me to venture forth.”
“Is she here?” said I.
“She is,” answered he; “she has just gone into the refreshment room with my mother, and when she returns, I will introduce you.”
While Glanville was yet speaking, three middle-aged ladies, who had been talking together with great vehemence for the last ten minutes, approached us.
“Which is he?—which is he?” said two of them, in no inaudible accents.
“This,” replied the third; and coming up to Glanville, she addressed him, to my great astonishment, in terms of the most hyperbolical panegyric.
“Your work is wonderful! wonderful!” said she.
“Oh! quite—quite!” echoed the other two.
“I can’t say,” recommenced the Coryphoea, “that I like the moral—at least not quite; no, not quite.”
“Not quite,” repeated her coadjutrices.