“And greatly to your disservice besides,” added I, severely.
He bowed in acquiescence, and said no more.
“How long have you served my father, La Grange?” asked I.
“About two years, sir. I succeeded Mr. Nixon, sir, who often spoke of you.”
“Ah, I remember Nixon. What became of him?”
“He set up the Hôtel Victoria at Spa, sir. You know, sir, that he married, and married very well too?”
“No, I never heard of it,” said I, carelessly.
“Yes, sir; he married Delorme's daughter, la belle Pauline they used to call her at Brussels.”
“What, Pauline Delorme?” said I, growing crimson with I know not what feeling.
“Yes, sir, the same; and she's the size of old Pierre, her father, already: not but she's handsome still,—but such a monster!”