'Of course,' said her ladyship.
'He dines here?'
'To be sure. I am reading his new poem; it will not be published till to-morrow.'
'Is it good?'
'Good! What crude questions you do always ask, Henry!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle. 'Good! Of course it is good. It is something better than good.'
'But I mean is it as good as his other things? Will it make as much noise as his last thing?'
'Thing! Now, Henry, you know very well that if there be anything I dislike in the world, it is calling a poem a thing.'
'Well, my dear, you know I am no judge of poetry. But if you are pleased, I am quite content. There is a knock. Some of your friends. I am off. I say, Gertrude, be kind to old Masham, that is a dear creature!'
Her ladyship extended her hand, to which his lordship pressed his lips, and just effected his escape as the servant announced a visitor, in the person of Mr. Horace Pole.
'Oh! my dear Mr. Pole, I am quite exhausted,' said her ladyship; 'I am reading Cadurcis' new poem; it will not he published till to-morrow, and it really has destroyed my nerves. I have got people to dinner to-day, and I am sure I shall not be able to encounter them.'