“Ah well, we’ll put you on ice as we do the melons. You must go down to Newport.”
“We’ll go anywhere!” said Lord Lambeth.
“Yes, you want to go to Newport; that’s what you want to do.” Mr. Westgate was very positive. “But let’s see—when did you get here?”
“Only yesterday,” said Percy Beaumont.
“Ah yes, by the Russia. Where are you staying?”
“At the Hanover, I think they call it.”
“Pretty comfortable?” inquired Mr. Westgate.
“It seems a capital place, but I can’t say we like the gnats,” said Lord Lambeth.
Mr. Westgate stared and laughed. “Oh no, of course you don’t like the gnats. We shall expect you to like a good many things over here, but we shan’t insist on your liking the gnats; though certainly you’ll admit that, as gnats, they’re big things, eh? But you oughtn’t to remain in the city.”
“So we think,” said Lord Lambeth. “If you’d kindly suggest something—”