"Maintenon cutlets! I hate them—I won't have them, sir. Let them be dressed à l'ombre Chinoise."
"I don't know what that is, my lord."
"I don't care for that, sirrah; if you don't find out by dinner-time, you're food for fishes—that's all; you may go."
The cook walked off wringing his hands and his night-cap as well—for he still held it in his right hand—and disappeared down the fore-hatchway.
"I have done this to pay you a deserved compliment, ladies; you have more courage than the other sex."
"Recollect that we have had confidence given to us in consequence of your pledging your word, my lord."
"You do me, then, the honour of believing me?"
"I did not until I saw you," replied Mrs Lascelles; "but now I am convinced that you will perform your promise."
"You do, indeed, encourage me, madam, to pursue what is right," said Pickersgill, bowing; "for your approbation I should be most sorry to lose, still more sorry to prove myself unworthy of it."
As the reader will observe, everything was going on remarkably well.