"I will explain myself. Her friend, Mr. Smith—"
"Old fogie!"
"Old bachelor—yes.—Mr. Smith and I agreed that she was dying of ennui; and so we got up this story-club, and got my brother and the rest to bear a hand in it. It did her all the good the most sanguine of us could have hoped for."
"I thought it horrid slow."
"I am surprised at that, for you were generally asleep."
"I was forced, in self-defence. I couldn't smoke."
"It gave her something to think about."
"So it seems."
"Now, Mr. Percy, how could you think you had the smallest chance with her, when here was the first one and then another turning each the flash of his own mental prism upon her weary eyes, and healing them with light; while you would not take the smallest trouble to gratify her, or even to show yourself to anything like advantage?—My dear fellow, what a fool you are!"
"Mr. Armstrong!"