Inexperienced Person (hesitating). Well, I'm not sure but what the animal would suit me, and—ahem!—if you care to trust it to me—
Clerical Gent (joyously). Trust it to you, Sir? Why, with pleasure, with every confidence. Dear old Bogey! He'll be happy with such a master—ah, and do him service too. I tell you, Sir, that horse, to a quiet, considerate sort o' gent like yourself, who wants to work his animal, not to wear it out, is worth forty pound, every penny of it—and cheap at the price!
I.P. Thanks! And—ah—what is the figure?
C.G. Why—ah—eighteen—no, dash it!—sixteen to you, and say no more about it.
[Inexperienced Person closes with the offer, hands notes to Clerical Gent (who, under pressure of business, hurries off), takes Bogey from the grinning groom-lad, leads him—with difficulty—out into the street, searches vainly for the two horsey Men, who, like "his Lordship," have utterly and finally disappeared, and finds himself left alone in a bye-thoroughfare with a "horse," which he cannot get along anyhow, and which he is presently glad to part with to a knacker for thirty shillings.
