"He, he, he!"
This last merriment of Mr Dragwell appeared to the lady to be such a pointed insult to her, that she bounded out of the room, exclaiming, "that an alehouse would have been a more suitable rendezvous."
The curate twiddled his thumbs, as the eyes of all the party followed the exit of Mrs Forster; and there were a few moments of silence.
"Don't you find her a pleasant little craft, Forster?" said Hilton, addressing Newton.
Nicholas Forster, who was in a brown study about his wife, shook his head without lifting up his eyes, while Newton nodded assent.
"Plenty of accommodation in her," continued Hilton.—Another negative shake from Nicholas, and assentient nod from Newton.
"If I thought you could manage her, Forster," continued Hilton—"tell me, what do you think yourself?"
"Oh, quite impossible!" replied Nicholas.
"Quite impossible, Mr Forster! Well, now, I've a better opinion of
Newton—I think he can."
"Why, yes," replied Nicholas! "certainly better than I can; but still she's—"