"Three millions a minute!"
"Ah," said he, sinking back with a sigh, "we have then reached the goal at last. Bayswater, we approach you. Shall the brougham be bottle-green or coffee-colored?"
"A brougham!" cried Violet; "no—a barge of white and gold, with crimson satin sails, and oars of bronze, towed by a company of snow-white swans——"
"Or mergansers"——
"And floating through the canals of claret which we shall set flowing in the streets. Then the Lord Mayor and the corporation will come to meet you, and you will get the freedom of the city presented in a gold snuff-box. As for Buckingham Palace—well, a baronetcy would be a nice thing."
"A baronetcy! Three millions a year and only a baronet! By the monuments of Westminster Abbey, I will become a duke and an archbishop rolled into one, and have the right of sending fifteen people a day to be beheaded at the tower."
"Oh, not that, uncle!"
"And why not?"
"Because there wouldn't be any publishers at the end of the year."
"And here we are at Black Gang Chine!"