“Oh, yes; but let me know that wemedy.”
“I warn you it is what we call in medicine an heroic one.”
“Never mind. I am despewate.”
“Well, then, the heroic remedy—to be used only as a desperate resort, mind—you must marry an Irishman.”
This took the lady's breath away.
“Mawwy a nice man?”
“A nice man; no. That means a fool. Marry scientifically—a precaution eternally neglected. Marry a Hibernian gentleman, a being as mercurial as you are lymphatic.”
“Mercurial!—lymphatic!”—
“Oh, hard words break no bones, ma'am.”
“No, sir. And it is very curious. No, I won't tell you. Yes, I will. Hem I—I think I have noticed one.”