"My, oh, my!" exclaimed Moore, horrified. "Has the Prince no sense of decorum?"
"How goes the world with you, children?" demanded Sheridan, kindly. "Do you manage to exist without the approval of royalty?"
"We are getting on somehow. I have enough to eat, almost enough to drink--"
"You are indeed fortunate," interjected Sheridan. "I cannot recall any period in my career when I had anywhere near enough to drink."
"You must remember, Sherry," said the Beau, languidly, "every Irishman does not have a bottomless pit where nature usually places a stomach. Your pardon, Mistress Dyke, for using so corporeal a term."
"Well, to continue," said Moore, "besides the possessions already enumerated I have a roof over my head, and these same luxuries I can offer to my wife when I get her."
Bessie looked up at him lovingly as he sat down on the arm of the chair she occupied.
"We will be so happy," she said shyly to Mr. Sheridan.
"And we will need no chaperon, I 'm thinking," said Moore.
"I 'll wager you won't," said Sheridan, wisely. "Well, George, let's get on our way."