The merchant was so evidently divided between anxiety to blurt out his mind while it was yet hot from the making up, and desire not to affront a guest and a man of rank, that the Count could scarcely restrain a smile.
“It is equally annoying to myself. I should have enjoyed a conversation with you at any hour since breakfast.”
“Umph,” replied his host.
“What can I do for you now?”
Mr. Gallosh looked at him steadfastly.
“Count Bunker,” said he, “I am only a plain man——”
“The ladies, I assure you, are not of that opinion,” interposed the Count politely.
Mr. Gallosh seemed to him to receive this compliment with more suspicion than pleasure.
“I'm saying,” he repeated, “that I'm only a plain man of business, and you and your friend are what you'd call swells.”
“God forbid that I should!” the Count interjected fervently. “'Toffs,' possibly—but no matter, please continue.”