'Perhaps the doctor coming to you or grandmamma.'
'Or you, my blooming damsel.'
'Or me. Why not?'
'Which God forbid!' cried the Admiral. 'But in any case we would send for him with well-trimmed lamps.'
'The foolish virgins trimmed their lamps too late,' said Cynthia.
'Well, see you don't,' said the Admiral, with provoking good-humour.
'Oh grandpapa, has never a Marlowe got drunk at his own dining-room table?'
'Cynthia!'
'Well, gentlemen do,' she said with shame, but decisively.
'Never here,' said the Admiral hastily. 'Perhaps at Old Lafer in the days of the Georges, never here! You go too far, Cynthy; you make me uncomfortable. What do you know of such things? I must instruct Mrs. Hennifer not to allow such a license of thought. Good Heavens, you will be turning Chartist next. There, there, I'm not going to tell you what that is.'