The company suspended their laughter and their cards, and looked around. Miss Pinnegar wilted and felt strange under so many eyes.
“Father!” said Alvina. “But why father?”
“You lost girl!” said Miss Pinnegar, backing out and closing the door.
Mr. May laughed so much that he knocked his whiskey over.
“There,” he cried, helpless, “look what she’s cost me!” And he went off into another paroxysm, swelling like a turkey.
Ciccio opened his mouth, laughing silently.
“Lost girl! Lost girl! How lost, when you are at home?” said Geoffrey, making large eyes and looking hither and thither as if he had lost something.
They all went off again in a muffled burst.
“No but, really,” said Mr. May, “drinking and card-playing with strange men in the drawing-room on Sunday evening, of cauce it’s scandalous. It’s terrible! I don’t know how ever you’ll be saved, after such a sin. And in Manchester House, too—!” He went off into another silent, turkey-scarlet burst of mirth, wriggling in his chair and squealing faintly: “Oh, I love it, I love it! You lost girl! Why of cauce she’s lost! And Miss Pinnegar has only just found it out. Who wouldn’t be lost? Why even Miss Pinnegar would be lost if she could. Of cauce she would! Quite natch’ral!”
Mr. May wiped his eyes, with his handkerchief which had unfortunately mopped up his whiskey.