Lawrence Newt replied by looking round the room as if searching for some one, and then saying:
“I don’t see your daughter, Mrs. Witchet, here to-night, Mr. Van Boozenberg.”
“No,” growled the papa, and moved on to talk with Mrs. Dagon.
“My dear Sir,” said the Honorable Budlong Dinks, approaching just as Lawrence Newt finished his remark, and Van Boozenberg, growling, departed:
“That was an unfortunate observation. You are, perhaps, not aware—”
“Oh! thank you, yes, I am fully aware,” replied Lawrence Newt. “But one thing I do not know.”
The Honorable Budlong Dinks bowed with dignity as if he understood Mr. Newt to compliment him by insinuating that he was the man who knew all about it, and would immediately enlighten him.
“I do not know why, if a man does a mean and unfeeling, yes, an inhuman act, it is bad manners to speak of it. Old Van Boozenberg ought to be sent to the penitentiary for his treatment of his daughter, and we all know it.”
“Yes; but really,” replied the Honorable Budlong Dinks, “really—you know—it would be impossible. Mr. Van Boozenberg is a highly respectable man—really—we should lapse into chaos,” and the honorable gentleman rubbed his hands with perfect suavity.
“When did we emerge?” asked Lawrence Newt, with such a kindly glimmer in his eyes, that Mr. Dinks said merely, “really,” and moved on, remarking to General Arcularius Belch, with a diplomatic shrug, that Lawrence Newt was a very odd man.