Mrs. Hurl. (without taking the slightest notice of him). She's just been marryin' her daughter, you know—rather a good match, too. Not what I call pretty,—smart-lookin', that's all. But then her sister wasn't pretty till she married.
Col. Sand. Nice family she married into! Met her father-in-law, old Lord Bletherham, the other morning, at a chemist's in Piccadilly—he'd dropped in there for a pick-me-up; and there he was, tellin' the chemist all the troubles he'd had with his other sons marryin' the way they did, and that. Rum man to go and confide in his chemist, but he's like that—fond of the vine!
Mr. C. S. Er—her—it's becoming a very serious thing, Sir, the way our aristocracy is deteriorating, is it not?
"I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'RE ACQUAINTED WITH A PAPER CALLED THE 'PENNY PATRICIAN'?"
Col. S. Is it? What have they been up to now, eh? Haven't seen a paper for days.
Mr. C. S. I mean these mixed marriages, and, well, their general goings on. I don't know if you're acquainted with a paper called the Penny Patrician? I take it in regularly, and I assure you—loyal supporter of our old hereditary institutions as I am—some of the revelations I read about in high life make me blush—yes, downright blush for them!
[Mrs. Hurlingham retires.
Col. S. Do they, though? If I were you I should let 'em do their own blushin', and save my pennies.
Mr. C. S. (deferentially). No doubt you're right, Sir, but I like the Patrician myself—it's very smartly written. Talking of that, do you happen to know the ins and outs of that marriage of young Lord Goslington's? Something very mysterious about the party he's going to marry—who are her people now?