Lord Ipsden turned round, and threw his pistol to Saunders, saying, “Catch that, Saunders.”
Saunders, on the contrary, by a single motion changed his person from a vertical straight line to a horizontal line exactly parallel with the earth's surface, and the weapon sang innoxious over him.
His lordship then, with a noble defiance of etiquette, walked up to his antagonist and gave him his hand, with a motion no one could resist; for he felt for the poor fellow.
“It is all a mistake,” said he. “There is no sentiment between La Johnstone and me but mutual esteem. I will explain the whole thing. I admire her for her virtue, her wit, her innocence, her goodness and all that sort of thing; and she, what she sees in me, I am sure I don't know,” added he, slightly shrugging his aristocratic shoulders. “Do me the honor to breakfast with me at Newhaven.”
“I have ordered twelve sorts of fish at the 'Peacock,' my lord,” said Saunders.
“Divine! (I hate fish) I told Saunders all would be hungry and none shot; by the by, you are winged, I think you said, Saunders?”
“No, my lord! but look at my trousers.”
The bullet had cut his pantaloons.
“I see—only barked; so go and see about our breakfast.”
“Yes, my lord” (faintly).