He disappears, i.e., from a conversational point of view, in our laughter. He is extinguished.
“What's he saying?” asks Mrs. Boodels.
Milburd takes up the trumpet. “He says,” shouts Milburd, it being quite unnecessary to shout, “that he's a very clever fellow.”
“Ah,” says Mrs. Boodels. “Mr. Chilvern's always joking.”
“I never said anything of the sort,” says the injured Chilvern to her, defending himself through the ear-trumpet.
“Ah,” observes Mrs. Boodels, perfectly satisfied. “I was sure he never could have said that.” Then she considers for a few seconds. After this she remarks, “Cleverness, is not one of his strong points.”
Whereupon she smiles amiably. Chilvern walks to the window.
“We were saying,” says the Professor, who evidently has a whole three-volume lecture ready for us, “that deaf people are happy. Now I controvert that opinion. To be deaf, is not a blessing.”
“Then,” says Milburd, “a person who is deaf, is not a blessed old man, or old woman, as the case may be.”
“You misapprehend me, my dear Milburd. What I would say about deafness, is this—” (exit Bella, quietly,)—“is this—that the loss of the sense of hearing——”