Turning my head, I saw that the gentleman had risen, and he now tripped towards us, his toes carefully pointed, while a small, gold-mounted walking cane dangled from his wrist by a riband.
"I believe," says he, speaking in a soft, affected voice, "I believe I have the felicity of addressing Sir John Chester?"
"The same, sir," said Jack, rising, "and, sir, I wish a word with you." Here, however, remembering myself and Bentley, he introduced us—though in a very perfunctory fashion, to be sure.
"Sir John," says Mr. Tawnish, "your very obedient humble; gentlemen—yours," and he bowed deeply to each of us in turn, with a prodigious flourish of the laced hat.
"I believe I have the felicity of addressing
Sir John Chester?" Page 12.
"I repeat, Sir," says Jack, returning his bow, very stiff in the back, "I repeat, I would have a word with you."
"On my soul, I protest you do me too much honour!" he murmured—"shall we sit?" Jack nodded, and Mr. Tawnish sank into a chair between myself and Bentley.
"Delightful weather we are having," says he, breaking in upon a somewhat awkward pause, "though they do tell me the country needs rain most damnably!"