“Isn’t it? The eyes of our fair hostess tell another story.”
Charley Devereux drained a glass of claret and remained silent.
“As you announced your nationality at the Albion, I know that you are Irish.”
“To the backbone, I hope.”
“Do you reside here?”
“No; I’ve only run over for a few days.”
“I shall be glad to make you an honorary member of my club.”
“What club is it?” asked Charley.
“I belong to two, the Garrick and the Reform. I can make you an honorary member of the Reform; at the Garrick we are powerless.”
“Thanks. I won’t trouble you, my stay is so short. I know, at least I do not know, a member of the Garrick.”