“My conscience is pretty much like my balance at my banker's—it's a mighty small matter, but somehow it never troubles me; and you 'll see by-and-by that it does n't interfere with my appetite.”
“You saw my sister at Naples, Mr. Cutbill,” said Nelly; “how was she looking?”
“Decidedly handsome; and as haughty as handsome; as an Irish friend who was walking with me one day her carriage passed, observed, 'A bow from her was the next thing to a black-eye.'”
“Marion's pride always became her,” said Nelly, coldly.
“It must be a comfort to her to feel she has a great stock of what suits her constitution.”
“And the noble Viscount,” asked Jack, “how was he looking?”
“As fresh as paint. The waxworks in the museum seemed faded and worn after him. He was in an acute attack of youth, the day I dined with him last, and I hope his system has not suffered for it.”
“Stop her,” muttered Jack, with a sly look at Cutbill; and to the surprise of the others, that astute individual rejoined, “Stop her, it is.”
“We dine at four, I think?” said Bramleigh, “and there 's just time to dress. Jack, take charge of Cutbill, and show him where he is to lodge.”
“And is it white choker and a fiddle coat? Do you tell me you dress for dinner?” asked Cutbill.