“You forget that men are not trout, Master Cutbill.”
“There are a good number of them gudgeons, I am happy to say,” cried he. “Give me a light for my cigar, for I am sick of discussion. Strange old tumble-down place this—might all be got for a song, I 'd swear. What a grand speck it would be to start a company to make a watering place of it: 'The Baths of Cattaro, celebrated in the time of Diocletian'—eh? Jack, does n't your mouth water at the thought of 'preliminary expenses'?”
“I can't say it does. I've been living among robbers lately, and I found them very dull company.”
“The sailor is rude; his manners smack of the cockpit,” said Cutbill, nudging Augustus in the side. “Oh, dear, how I 'd like a commission to knock this old town into a bathing machine.”
“You'll have ample time to mature your project up at the villa. There, you see it yonder.”
“And is that the British flag I see waving there? Wait a moment till I master my emotion, and subdue the swelling feelings of my breast.”
“I 'll tell you what, Master Cutbill,” said Jack, sternly, “if you utter any stupid rubbish against the Union Jack, I'll be shot if I don't drop you over the sea-wall for a ducking; and, what's more, I 'll not apologize to you when you come out.”
“Outrage the second. The naval service is not what I remember it.”
“Here come the girls,” said Augustus. “I hear Julia's merry laugh in the wood.”
“The L'Estrange girl, isn't it?” asked Cutbill; and though Jack started and turned almost as if to seize him, he never noticed the movement.