At this point in his dissertation on English sport, her Grace suddenly started, caught hold of the table with both hands, and passionately struggled for breath.
"Got the staggers?" enquired Miss Bindler, who was sitting just opposite. "Keep your head up."
Mr. Rodney hastily began to pour cold water into a champagne glass, with a view to using it medicinally.
"Take it away!" gasped the Duchess. "Oh, take it away!" And she moved as a serpent moves when it thinks of casting its skin.
"Take what?" said Mr. Rodney. "What is it?"
"The aspic on my left shoulder—oh, take it away!"
"The asp on your left shoulder!" he cried, preparing for flight.
"No, no! The cutlet in aspic. Oh!"
A rapid search enabled Mr. Rodney to discover a jellied cutlet lodged upon her Grace's person. He endeavoured hastily to remove it with a fork, and in doing so nearly inflicted a severe wound.
"Use your hands, man!" said Miss Bindler, "always use your hands in such cases."