"You don't practise what you preach, Mr. Gurney," said Lady Errington, smiling.
"How many of us do?" asked Gartney complacently. "I'm afraid we talk a lot and do nothing, now-a-days. It's the disease of the latter end of the nineteenth century."
"Oh, everything's very jolly," said Otterburn, who resembled Mark Tapley in his disposition. "Who was it said that this was the best of all possible worlds?"
"Voltaire! But by that it was not his intention to infer he didn't yearn after some better world."
"Heaven!"
"I don't think that was in M. Arouet's line."
"I'm afraid it isn't in any of our lines."
"What a rude remark," said Lady Errington severely. "This conversation is becoming so atheistical that I must ask Mr. Gartney to carry out his promise and play the Moonlight Sonata. It may inspire us with higher thoughts."
"The Como Moonlight Sonata--it will be a local hit."
"What nonsense you do talk, Macjean," said Eustace rising to his feet and throwing his cigarette into the water, "you're like that man in the Merchant of Venice."