Madame smiled leeringly. Dud smoked on.
'Go on,' said Dud, with a nod of command.
'I am teach her to sing and play—she has such sweet voice!
There was another interval here.
'Well, that isn't much good. I hate women's screechin' about fairies and flowers. Hang her! there's a scarecrow as sings at Curl's Divan. Such a caterwauling upon a stage! I'd like to put my two barrels into her.'
By this time Dud's pipe was out, and he could afford to converse.
'You shall see her and decide. You will walk down the river, and pass her by.'
'That's as may be; howsoever, it would not do, nohow, to buy a pig in a poke, you know. And s'pose I shouldn't like her, arter all?'
Madame sneered, with a patois ejaculation of derision.
'Vary good! Then some one else will not be so 'ard to please—as you will soon find.'