“I thought the world had outgrown the cant of connection. I thought that we had got to be so widely-minded, that you might talk to a man about his sister as freely as if she were the Queen of Sheba.”
“Pray do me the favor to believe me still a bigot, sir.”
“How far is Lord Culduff involved in the mishap you speak of, Mr. Cutbill?” said Nelly, with a courteousness of tone she hoped might restore their guest to a better humor.
“I think he 'll net some five-and-twenty thousand out of the transaction; and from what I know of the distinguished Viscount, he 'll not lie awake at night fretting over the misfortunes of Tom Cutbill and fellows.”
“Will this—this misadventure,” stammered out Augustus, “prevent your return to England?”
“Only for a season. A man lies by for these things, just as he does for a thunderstorm; a little patience, and the sun shines out, and he walks about freely as ever. If it were not, besides, for this sort of thing, we City men would never have a day's recreation in life; nothing but work, work, from morning till night. How many of us would see Switzerland, I ask you, if we didn't smash? The Insolvent Court is the way to the Rhine, Bramleigh, take my word for it, though it ain't set down in John Murray.”
“If a light heart could help to a light conscience, I must say, Mr. Cutbill, you would appear to possess that enviable lot.”
“There 's such a thing as a very small conscience,” said Cutbill, closing one eye, and looking intensely roguish. “A conscience so unobtrusive that one can treat it like a poor relation, and put it anywhere.”
“Oh, Mr. Cutbill, you shock me,” said Ellen, trying to look reproachful and grave.
“I 'm sorry for it, Miss Bramleigh,” said he, with mock sorrow in his manner.