‘I rather admire our Adèle,’ said the Duke of St. James. ‘I really think she dances with more aplomb than any of them.’
‘Oh! certainly; she is a favourite of mine.’
‘But I like that wild little Ducis,’ said Lord Squib. ‘She puts me in mind of a wild cat.’
‘And Marunia of a Bengal tiger,’ said his Grace.
‘She is a fine woman, though,’ said Lord Darrell.
‘I think your cousin, St. James,’ said Lord Squib, ‘will get into a scrape with Marunia. I remember Chetwynd telling me, and he was not apt to complain on that score, that he never should have broken up if it had not been for her.’
‘But he was an extravagant fellow,’ said Mr. Annesley: ‘he called me in at his bouleversement for advice, as I have the reputation of a good economist. I do not know how it is, though I see these things perpetually happen; but why men, and men of small fortunes, should commit such follies, really exceeds my comprehension. Ten thousand pounds for trinkets, and nearly as much for old furniture!’
‘Chetwynd kept it up a good many years, though, I think,’ said Lord Darrell. ‘I remember going to see his rooms when I first came over. You recollect his pearl fountain of Cologne water?’
‘Millecolonnes fitted up his place, I think?’ asked the young Duke; ‘but it was before my time.’
‘Oh! yes; little Bijou,’ said Annesley. ‘He has done you justice, Duke. I think the Alhambra much the prettiest thing in town.’