“And what in the world are you going to do with them?”
“Oh, there’s plenty to do—billiards, and cards, and smoking indoors; fishing and yachting out of doors.”
“Yes,” said Pratt, with a sigh; “but they’ll both be murmuring after the flesh-pots of Pall Mall. You’ll have your hands pretty full.”
“Never fear,” said Trevor; “I shall be able to entertain them. How strange it all seems, though—such a little while since we were boys at Eton, and now Van a perfect exquisite.”
“Landells an imperfect ditto.”
“You a barrister.”
“Yes,” said Pratt, “very barrister, indeed; and you altered into a tawny tar, regularly disguised by Nature.”
Here there was a tap at the door. “Come in,” said Trevor, who was sitting in a low, big-backed chair. And then, as the door opened, “Who is it?”
“Hebe!” said Pratt, softly.
“Eh?” said Trevor.