“Oh, I don’t mind,” said Lord Lambeth. And then they smoked a while in silence. “Fancy his thinking we do no work in England!” the young man resumed.
“I daresay he didn’t really think so,” said Percy Beaumont.
“Well, I guess they don’t know much about England over here!” declared Lord Lambeth humorously. And then there was another long pause. “He was devilish civil,” observed the young nobleman.
“Nothing, certainly, could have been more civil,” rejoined his companion.
“Littledale said his wife was great fun,” said Lord Lambeth.
“Whose wife—Littledale’s?”
“This American’s—Mrs. Westgate. What’s his name? J.L.”
Beaumont was silent a moment. “What was fun to Littledale,” he said at last, rather sententiously, “may be death to us.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked his kinsman. “I am as good a man as Littledale.”
“My dear boy, I hope you won’t begin to flirt,” said Percy Beaumont.