‘And Long Harrington,’ said Lord Squib. ‘She is my beauty.’
‘And the young Ducie,’ said Annesley. ‘And Mrs. Dallington of course, and Caroline St. Maurice, and Charlotte Bloomerly; really, she was dressed most prettily last night; and, above all, the queen bee of the hive, May Dacre, eh! St. James? And I have another proposition,’ said Annesley, with unusual animation. ‘May Dacre won the St. Leger, and ruled the course; and May Dacre shall win the cup, and rule the waves. Our yacht shall be christened by the Lady Bird of Yorkshire.’
‘What a delightful thing it would be,’ said the Duke of St. James, ‘if, throughout life, we might always choose our crew; cull the beauties, and banish the bores.’
‘But that is impossible,’ said Lord Darrell. ‘Every ornament of society is counterbalanced by some accompanying blur. I have invariably observed that the ugliness of a chaperon is exactly in proportion to the charms of her charge; and that if a man be distinguished for his wit, his appearance, his style, or any other good quality, he is sure to be saddled with some family or connection, who require all his popularity to gain them a passport into the crowd.’
‘One might collect an unexceptionable coterie from our present crowd,’ said Mr. Annesley. ‘It would be curious to assemble all the pet lambs of the flock.’
‘Is it impossible?’ asked the Duke.
‘Burlington is the only man who dare try,’ said Lord Darrell.
‘I doubt whether any individual would have sufficient pluck,’ said Lord Squib.
‘Yes,’ said the Duke, ‘it must, I think, be a joint-stock company to share the glory and the odium. Let us do it!’
There was a start, and a silence, broken by Annesley in a low voice: