“The grande passion was certainly not for Lady F.,” said Massey.
“By Jove, if she was the remedy, it was a strong one!” added Lauriston.
“I shall take his advice, and distribute my attentions more,” remarked Massey, who was never in the society of any woman under fifty, of high or low degree, without devoting all his energies to ingratiating himself with her.
“Old buffers like that always talk in that strained fashion about the dangers of women, but as a matter of fact it isn’t till you’re over fifty yourself that they become dangerous at all.”
“No,” said Lauriston, with a blasé air pardonable at three-and-twenty. “Hang it all, the difficulty is, not to avoid their charms, but to find a girl decent-looking enough to dance with twice and take down to supper without being bored to death!”
“You don’t find many grandes passions knockin’ about nowadays,” observed Dicky sagely.
“At least not in our set,” amended Massey; “nor in this country.”
“Oh! I suppose they’re common enough over the Channel!”
“I won’t say that, but there’s something in the eye of an Irish girl that sets your heart beating nineteen to the dozen——”
“Provided it’s an Irish heart.”