“Oh, dear! I'm precisely of his mind, then,” sighed Meek, caressing his whiskers.
“Kilgoff will not remain, you 'll see,” said Upton. “He is not pleased with my Lady's taste for close intimacy.”
“The Kennyfecks are going to-morrow or next day,” said another.
“So they have been every day this last week; but if some of you gentlemen will only be gallant enough to give a good reason for remaining, they 'll not stir.” This was spoken by Lady Janet in her tartest of voices, and with a steady stare at Upton, who stroked his moustaches in very palpable confusion. “Yes, Sir Harvey,” continued she, “I 'm perfectly serious, and Mr. Linton, I perceive, agrees with me.”
“As he always does, Lady Janet, when he desires to be in the right,” said Linton, bowing.
“Aw—I, aw—I did n't think it was so easy in that quarter, aw!” said Jennings, in a low semi-confidential tone.
“I 'll insure you for a fair premium, Jennings, if you have any fancy that way.”
“Aw, I don't know,—concern looks hazardous,—ha, ha, ha!—don't you think so?” But as nobody joined in his laughter, he resumed, in a lower voice, “There, Upton 's very spooney indeed about one of them.”
“It's the aunt,” said Linton,—“a very fine woman, too; what the French call beauté sévère; but classical, quite classical.”
“Confounded old harridan!” muttered Upton, between his teeth; “I 'd not take her with Rothschild's bank at her disposal.”