"At a masquerade?" ejaculated Lord Dunstable.
"Yes. I was dressed as a Greek brigand, and he was attired as a monk."
"The sanctified scoundrel!" said Colonel Cholmondeley, in a tone of deep indignation. "What dishonour he brought upon the cloth! You know my brother the Archdeacon? Well, he's as jovial a fellow as you could wish to meet. Keeps his three mistresses, his horses and hounds, and goes to bed mellow every night of his life. But he does things discreetly."
"In a proper manner, to be sure," muttered the Marquis of Holmesford. "But, by the by, Greenwood, you once admired my beautiful Georgian."
"And I often think of her now, my lord," returned the Member of Parliament.
"I'll make you a proposal, if you like," continued the Marquis, grinning like an antiquated goat. "I have taken quite a fancy to your bay mare Cleopatra."
"Yes—'tis a beautiful bit of horse-flesh," remarked Greenwood.
"Well—my Georgian for your bay mare?" said the Marquis. "Is it a bargain?"
"A decided bargain," replied Greenwood.
"But how do you know that the lady will submit to the exchange?" asked Smicksmack, with a smile.