“Glumthal, the great Frankfort millionnaire.”
“Oh, present him, by all means. Let us have him here,” said Lady Lackington, eagerly. “What does that little man mean by smirking in that fashion,—who is he?” asked she, as Mr. O'Reilly passed and repassed before her, making some horrible grimaces that he intended to have represented as fascinations.
“On no account, my Lord,” said Lady Lackington, as though replying to a look of entreaty from his Lordship.
“But you 'd really be amused,” said he, smiling. “It is about the best bit of low comedy—”
“I detest low comedy.”
“The father of your fair friends, is it not?” asked Lady Grace, languidly.
“Yes. Twining admires them vastly,” said his Lordship, half maliciously. “If I might venture—”
“Oh dear, no; not to me,” said Lady Grace, shuddering. “I have little tolerance for what are called characters. You may present your Hebrew friend, if you like.”
“He's going to dance with the Princess; and there goes Twining, with one of my beauties, I declare,” said Lord Lackington. “I say, Spicer, what is that dark lot, near the door?”
“American trotters, my Lord; just come over.”