"Those red-tiled roofs are simply charming!" exclaimed the solicitor.
"A perfect poem," said Claude.
"And that May-tree in full bloom!"
"A living lyric," said Claude.
It was really apple-blossom.
"And you," cried the Duke to his cat, "you're a comic song, that's what you are! Tell 'em you won't be talked down, Livingstone. Tell this gentleman he's got to hear the worst. Tell him that when the other gentleman found us"—the solicitor raised his Times with a shrug—"one of us was drunk, drunk, drunk; and the other was watching over him—and the other was my little cat!"
"You're joking, of course?" said Claude, with a flush.
"Not me, mister. That's a fact. You see, it was like this——"
"Thanks," said Claude hastily; "but I'd far rather not know."
"Why not, old toucher?"