‘You are trying, I suppose, to account for your unfortunate error at Cleverley’s, on Monday, Squib?’ said Lord Darrell, laughing.
‘Pooh! all nonsense.’
‘What was it?’ said Mr. Annesley.
‘Not a word true,’ said Lord Squib, stifling curiosity.
‘I believe it,’ said the Duke, without having heard a syllable. ‘Come, Darrell, out with it!’
‘It really is nothing very particular, only it is whispered that Squib said something to Lady Clever-ley which made her ring the bell, and that he excused himself to his Lordship by protesting that, from their similarity of dress and manner and strong family likeness, he had mistaken the Countess for her sister.’
Omnes. ‘Well done, Squib! And were you introduced to the right person?’
‘Why,’ said his Lordship, ‘fortunately I contrived to fall out about the settlements, and so I escaped.’
‘So the chaste Diana is to be the new patroness?’ said Lord Darrell.
‘So I understand,’ rejoined Mr. Annesley. ‘This is the age of unexpected appointments.’