“Frederick!” said Mrs Griffin. “Will you stand by and hear your mother being insulted by one whom I strongly suspect of being a dandy?”
“But Mama, indeed, it is no concern of ours if he is!”
“Perhaps,” said Sir Richard, in arctic tones, “it may be of service if I make myself known to you, ma’am. My name is Wyndham.”
Mrs Griffin received this information with every appearance of disdain, but its effect upon her son was staggering. His eyes seemed to be in danger of bursting out of their sockets; he started forward, and ejaculated in tones of deepest reverence: “Sir! is this possible? Have I the honour of addressing Sir Richard Wyndham?”
Sir Richard bowed slightly.
“The celebrated Whip?” asked Mr Griffin.
Sir Richard bowed again.
“The creator of the Wyndham Fall?” pursued Mr Griffin, almost overcome.
Tired of bowing, Sir Richard said: “Yes.”
“Sir,” said Mr Griffin, “I am happy to make your acquaintance! My name is Griffin!”