"Were you at the House last night?" inquired Gammon—"They sat very late! Lord Bulfinch made, I think, a very powerful speech"—
—
"Yes—devilish good—rather long though; and too many of those cursed figures that—by Jove—no one cares about!" replied Titmouse, languidly.
He had by this time turned himself towards Mr. Gammon,—his right arm and leg hanging carelessly over the further side of the sofa.
"Lady Cecilia is well, I hope?"
"Can't say—not seen her this week," drawled Titmouse. "I'll ring and ask if you wish," he added, with an affected smile.
"Ah, my dear Titmouse," quoth Gammon, blandly, and with a smile of delicious flattery, "I hope you don't give her Ladyship just cause for jealousy?—eh? You must not avail yourself of your—your acknowledged power over the sex—ahem!"
Mr. Titmouse, half closing his eyes, silently expelled a mouthful of smoke, while an ineffable smile stole over his features.
"You must not neglect her Ladyship, Titmouse," quoth Gammon, gently shaking his head, and with an anxiously deferential air.