Tal. “How lucky for you, there are fiddles and tunes, and the natives you are said to favor, why not join them?”
Ips. (shaking his head solemnly). “I dread to encounter another prelude.”
Hither. “Come, I know you would like it; it is a wedding-party—two sea monsters have been united. The sailors and fishermen are all blue cloth and wash-leather gloves.”
Miss V. “He! he!”
Tal. “The fishwives unite the colors of the rainbow—”
Lady Bar. “(And we all know how hideous they are)—to vulgar, blooming cheeks, staring white teeth, and sky-blue eyes.”
Mrs. V. “How satirical you are, especially you, Lady Barbara.”
Here Lord Ipsden, after a word to Lady Barbara, the answer to which did not appear to be favorable, rose, gave a little yawn, looked steadily at his companions without seeing them, and departed without seeming aware that he was leaving anybody behind him.
Hither. “Let us go somewhere where we can quiz the natives without being too near them.”
Lady Bar. “I am tired of this unbroken solitude, I must go and think to the sea,” added she, in a mock soliloquy; and out she glided with the same unconscious air as his lordship had worn.