“Do you approve of the Panopticon plan, my Lord?” said Mrs. White, who never omitted a question when a hard word could be introduced.
“It is, madam,—you are perfectly correct,” said the obsequious old judge,—“very much the same kind of thing as the Pantechnicon.”
“Talking of Panopticon, where 's Kilgoff?” whispered Linton to one of the hussars.
“Don't you see him yonder, behind the harp? How that poor woman must be bored by such espionnage!”
“If you mean to build a house, sir,” said Lady Janet, addressing Cashel, with a tone of authority, “don't, I entreat of you, adopt any of these absurd outrages upon taste and convenience, but have a good square stone edifice.”
“Four, or even five stories high,” broke in Linton, gravely.
“Four quite enough,” resumed she, “with a roomy hall, and all the reception-rooms leading off it. Let your bedrooms—” “Be numerous enough, at all events,” said Linton again.
“Of course; and so arranged that you can devote one story to families exclusively.”
“Yes; the garçons should have their dens as remote as possible from the quieter regions.”
“Have a mass of small sitting-rooms beside the larger salons. In a country-house there's nothing like letting people form their own little coteries.”