“’Tis so imprece-dented sir, as to be almost beyond natur’, your honour.”
Laughing, Sir John remounted and, laughing still, rode off to seek him a new lodging.
CHAPTER XXII
MY LADY HERMINIA BARRASDAILE WEAVES WEBS FOR AN UNWARY HE
“Aunt,” cried my lady, tossing Mr. Steele’s Tatler to the other end of the cushioned settee and yawning prodigiously, “Aunt Lucinda, ’tis high time I had you married again!”
“What, wench, what?” exclaimed the diminutive Duchess, opening drowsy eyes. “Married, d’ye say?”
“So soon as possible, dear aunt. I intend to wed you to a——”
“Heavens, Herminia, how harrowing—how hateful——”
“Goodness gracious preserve us, aunt, how can ye?”
“Gemini! What now, child?”