‘Paris! and where is she?’
‘I liked Raffenburg,’ said Lord Squib; ‘he always reminded me of a country innkeeper who supplies you with pipes and tobacco gratis, provided that you will dine with him.’
‘He had unrivalled meerschaums,’ said Mr. Annesley, ‘and he was most liberal. There are two. You know I never use them, but they are handsome furniture.’
‘Those Dalmaines are fine girls,’ said the Duke of St. James.
‘Very pretty creatures! Do you know, Duke,’ said Annesley, ‘I think the youngest one something like Miss Dacre.’
‘Indeed! I cannot say the resemblance struck me.’
‘I see old mother Dalmaine dresses her as much like the Doncaster belle as she possibly can.’
‘Yes, and spoils her,’ said Lord Squib; ‘but old mother Dalmaine, with all her fuss, was ever a bad cook, and overdid everything.’
‘Young Dalmaine, they say,’ observed Lord Darrell, ‘is in a sort of a scrape.’
‘Ah! what?’