“I can’t,” drawled Ffolliott miserably—“I am quite angry with Rippley—he told me it was a fancy-dress affair—and——”
Fosse turned his back upon him impatiently:
“I repeat,” said he—“and I have a signed article in The Discriminator to prove it—a genius has arrived.”
“By Pegasus?” sneered Aubrey, raising ironic eyebrows.
Lovegood laughed:
“No—by omnibus,” said he. “Let us all be winged asses to-night. Fosse has not secured a government monopoly.”...
From the great doorway:
“Mistair and Mrs. Nezzerbie Gomme!” announced Rippley; and as the pair were greeted by all near them, Rippley stepped to the head of the great stairs, and going up to a pompous man as that worthy set foot on the topmost step, he said to him confidentially:
“I say, mister, would you mind running down the stairs and telling the fellar with the red hair that I want him?”
Sir Tankerton Wollup swelled slowly: