Colonel Halkett seated himself. Stukely Culbrett turned a sheet of manuscript he was reading.
Beauchamp began a caged lion’s walk on the rug under the mantelpiece.
“I shall not spare you from hearing what I think of it, sir.”
“We’ve had what you think of it twice over,” said Mr. Romfrey. “I suppose it was the first time for information, the second time for emphasis, and the rest counts to keep it alive in your recollection.”
“This is what you have to take to heart, sir; that Dr. Shrapnel is now seriously ill.”
“I’m sorry for it, and I’ll pay the doctor’s bill.”
“You make it hard for me to treat you with respect.”
“Fire away. Those Radical friends of yours have to learn a lesson, and it’s worth a purse to teach them that a lady, however feeble she may seem to them, is exactly of the strength of the best man of her acquaintance.”
“That’s well said!” came from Colonel Halkett.
Beauchamp stared at him, amazed by the commendation of empty language.