"Two. Thass ver' few f'r so clever a man as you, Tommy. I fear you lack ver'--ver'--vers'tility, m' boy."
"The first subject is, of course, Bessie."
"Curst nice lil' girl," observed Sheridan, conscious that the young lady spoken of was in some way connected with the idea that had so suddenly vanished.
"The other is myself."
"Natura--er--rally so."
"Now of which of these did he speak?"
"Thass the question, Tommy," replied Sheridan stupidly.
"Oh!" exclaimed Moore in disgust.
A flash of recollection stirred into new life by the ejaculation illumined the face of the wit.
"Yesh, thass it. Owe. Thass it, Tommy."