What a laughing-stock I should be, when this man unfolded the tale of his being decoyed into the country by a fellow who bragged about his preserves, upon which there wasn't a feather! Would I make a clean breast of it? would I say that—
While this struggle was waging beneath my waistcoat, we arrived, and there was nothing for it but to trust to luck and Billy Doyle.
When we alighted, I asked Simpson into the drawing-room, as his bed-chamber had not yet been allotted to him. My wife was still sulky and did not appear, so I had to discover her whereabouts.
"Simpson has arrived, my dear."
"I suppose so," very curtly.
"He is a very agreeable entertaining fellow."
"I suppose so," she snapped.
"Where have you decided on putting him?"
"In your dressing-room."
"My dressing-room?"