“For I 've remarked,” resumed Quackinboss, as if in continuation of his speech, “that a foreigner that don't know English wearies after a while in listenin', even though you 're tellin' him very interesting things.”
“I perceive, sir,” said Ogden, rising, “that I have certainly been mistaken in the address. I was told that at the Palazzo Barsotti—”
“Well, you 're jest there; that's what they call this ramshackle old crazy consarn. Their palaces, bein' main like their nobility, would be all the better for a little washin' and smartenin' up.”
“You can perhaps, however, inform me where Lord Agincourt does live?”
“Well, he lives, as I may say, a little promiscuous. If he ain't here. it's because he's there! You understand?”
“I cannot say very confidently that I do understand,” said Ogden, slowly.
“It was well as you was n't a practisin' lawyer, Britisher, for you ain't smart! that's a fact. No, sir; you ain't smart!”
“Your countrymen's estimate of that quality has a high standard, sir,” said Ogden, haughtily.
“What do you mean by my countrymen?” asked the other, quickly.
“I ventured to presume that you were an American,” said Ogden, with a supercilious smile.