“By me saul! I thenk I'll be the Wanderin' Jew!” cried he, wiping the perspiration off his forehead.
“You hear that, Lady Janet?” said Linton, roguishly. “Sir Andrew intends to live forever.”
“So that I don't, sir, I can't complain,” said she, with a tartness quite electric.
“I incline to leave the choice of each free,” said Miss Kennyfeck, as she tossed over the drawings. “When you select a story, there are always a certain number of characters nobody likes to take.”
“I'll be Henri Quatre,” said an infantry captain. “I wish you 'd be Gabrielle, Miss Kennyfeck?”
“Thanks; but I 've a fancy for that Cephalonian costume.”
“Egad! you can always pick up a 'Greek' or two, here, to keep you company,” said a hussar; but no one joined his laugh.
“I'll be Don Belianis!” said a tall, melancholy subaltern.
“What were you at Bellingden's last year, Fillymore?”
“I went as 'Chiffney;' but they turned me out. The whole was mediaeval, and they said I was all wrong.”