'But,' inquired the Baronet, 'what's the dodge? Put us up to the dodge, Miss Freeman.'
'Oh, I can't do that,' said the young lady, looking at the gentleman in a sort of languishing, sufficiently expressive, way.
He then, turning to Mrs. B., said: 'Come, Mrs. B., won't you tell us what this knowing dodge is?'
'No, no; don't tell, Mrs. B.!' exclaimed the young lady; 'pray don't. I beg you won't.'
'Miss Freeman is inclined to trust to the power of invisible chains, that's all,' said Mrs. B.
'Oh, that's it, is it?' said the Baronet. 'I should fancy such chains very infirm, and little to be depended on—in fact, I should regard them as utterly worthless and flimsy, except, indeed, they happened to be that kind of flimsy that the fat old banker's widow hung round the neck of young Lord Manners; that might hold.'
'And what kind of chain is it that you describe by this word flimsy?'
'Don't you know?' replied the gentleman. 'I thought everyone knew that.'
'He means a chain of bank-notes,' said Mrs. B. 'A bank-note is with men on the turf, and other classes less respectable, termed a "flimsy."'