“Deuced good dinner, Litton, ’pon my soul. People not half so snobbish as I expected to find them. I say, look here. What do you think of that piece of goods?”
He indicated Clotilde, about whom Dick Millet was now hovering; but who had turned from him to listen to a remark just made by Glen.
“Hum, ha!” said Litton critically. “Oh, that’s one of the Dymcox girls, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t ask you anything about who she is; I said what do you think of her?”
“Not bad-looking, I should say,” replied Litton coolly; “but nothing particular.”
“Oh, you be blowed!” said the great financier, and he screwed his short thick neck down a little lower into his chest, and turned away.
“Well, Lady Littletown, how do matters make themselves?” said Litton quietly, when, after a time, her ladyship passed his way.
“Oh, Arturo, mio caro!” said her ladyship, tickling the centre stud in his shirt-front with the end of her closed fan. “Maravigliosamente. My dear boy, it is wonderful. You shall have a rich wife, Arthur, if you are good, and this affair is un fait accompli.”
“Why didn’t you try a bit of German, too?” muttered Litton, as her ladyship passed on. “Here, I must get on with some of these officers; perhaps they’d take me to their quarters, and give me a smoke and an S. and B. Hang this tea! I forgot, though, I promised Potiphar to go home with him. Hang the beast! but it will save me a fare.”
Everyone was delighted. Lady Littletown was charmed over and over again, but when at last an obsequious footman, who seemed to be shod with velvet, whispered to the Honourable Philippa that her carriage had arrived, that lady, who felt very tired and sleepy, said mentally, “Thank goodness!”