“And draw on me for fifty pounds' worth of—new trousers.”
“Yes, my lord” (sonorously).
The duelists separated, Gatty taking the short cut to Newhaven; he proposed to take his favorite swim there, to refresh himself before breakfast; and he went from his lordship a little cheered by remarks which fell from him, and which, though vague, sounded friendly—poor fellow, except when he had a brush in hand he was a dreamer.
This viscount, who did not seem to trouble his head about class dignity, was to convert his mother from her aristocratic tendencies or something.
Que sais-je? what will not a dreamer hope?
Lord Ipsden strolled along the sands, and judge his surprise, when, attended by two footmen, he met at that time in the morning Lady Barbara Sinclair.
Lord Ipsden had been so disheartened and piqued by this lady's conduct that for a whole week he had not been near her. This line of behavior sometimes answers.
She met him with a grand display of cordiality.
She inquired, “Whether he had heard of a most gallant action, that, coupled with another circumstance” (here she smiled), “had in part reconciled her to the age we live in?”
He asked for further particulars.