‘My mother, ma’am—Mrs. Tuggs,’ said Mr. Cymon. The military gentleman and his wife murmured enchanting courtesies; and the Tuggses looked as unembarrassed as they could.
‘Walter, my dear,’ said the black-eyed young lady, after they had sat chatting with the Tuggses some half-hour.
‘Yes, my love,’ said the military gentleman.
‘Don’t you think this gentleman (with an inclination of the head towards Mr. Cymon Tuggs) is very much like the Marquis Carriwini?’
‘Lord bless me, very!’ said the military gentleman.
‘It struck me, the moment I saw him,’ said the young lady, gazing intently, and with a melancholy air, on the scarlet countenance of Mr. Cymon Tuggs. Mr. Cymon Tuggs looked at everybody; and finding that everybody was looking at him, appeared to feel some temporary difficulty in disposing of his eyesight.
‘So exactly the air of the marquis,’ said the military gentleman.
‘Quite extraordinary!’ sighed the military gentleman’s lady.
‘You don’t know the marquis, sir?’ inquired the military gentleman.
Mr. Cymon Tuggs stammered a negative.