“Well, most of the things I touch have a disheartening way of turning to dross,” said Mr. Beaumaris, lightly, but with a note of bitter self-mockery in his languid voice.
This was going a little too deep for his friend. “Humdudgeon, Robert! You can’t bamboozle me! If there are to be no Paphians—”
“I can’t conceive why you should have supposed there would be,” interrupted his host.
“Well, I didn’t, but I can tell you this, my boy!—that’s the latest on-dit! ”
“Good God! Why?”
“Lord, how should I know? Daresay it’s because you won’t throw your glove at any of the beauties who have been setting their caps at you any time these five years. What’s more, your chères-amies are always such devilish high-flyers, dear boy, it puts notions into the heads of all the old tabbies! Think of the Faraglini!”
‘“I had rather not. The most rapacious female of my acquaintance.”
“But what a face! what a figure!”
“And what a temper!”
“What became of her?” asked his lordship. “I haven’t laid eyes on her since she left your protection.”