‘No bad compliment,’ said Emily, ‘for Phyllis was once known to say, on hearing a turkey cock, “How melodiously that nightingale sings.”’
‘No, no! that was Ada,’ said Lilias.
‘I could answer for that,’ said Claude. ‘Phyllis is too familiar with both parties to mistake their notes. Besides, she never was known to use such a word as melodiously.’
‘Do you remember,’ said the Marquis, ‘that there was some great lawyer who had three kinds of handwriting, one that the public could read, one that only his clerk could read, and one that nobody could read?’
‘I suppose I am the clerk,’ said Claude, ‘unless I divide the honour with Florence.’
‘I do not think I am unintelligible anywhere but here,’ said Lord Rotherwood. ‘There is nothing sufficiently exciting at home, if Grosvenor Square is to be called home.’
‘Sometimes you do it without knowing it,’ said Lily.
‘Yes,’ said Claude, ‘when you do not exactly know what you are going to say.’
‘Then it is no bad plan,’ said Lord Rotherwood. ‘People are satisfied, and you don’t commit yourself.’
‘I’ll tell you what, Cousin Rotherwood,’ exclaimed Phyllis, ‘your hand is bleeding.’