What think you, said his Lordship it is to the young folks that I address myself, of seeing before you a couple who that day has been married twenty years, and never frown'd on one another?
Think! said Lord Darcey, it is very possible.
Possible it certainly is, reply'd Lady Powis; but very few instances, I believe—
What say you, Miss Warley? ask'd his Lordship: you find Lord Darcey supposes it very possible.—Good God! I thought I should have sunk: it was not so much the question, as the manner he express'd it in. I felt as if my face was stuck full of needles: however, I stifled my confusion, and reply'd, I was quite of Lady Powis's opinion.
Well, what say you, Miss Winter?
How I rejoiced! I declare I could hardly contain my joy, when he address'd himself to her.
What say I, my Lord? return'd she; why, truly, I think it must be your own faults, if you are not treated civilly.—The Devil! cry'd he.
O fie! O fie! my Lord, squeaked my left hand neighbour.—And why O fie! retorted his Lordship: Is civility all we have to expect?
We can claim nothing else said the squeaker.—If the dear creatures condescend to esteem us, we ought to consider it a particular indulgence.
And so, Miss Warley, cry'd Lord Allen, we are only to be esteemed now-a-days. I thank God my good woman has imbibed none of those modern notions. Her actions have convinced the world of that long ago.