Gerald.
So much so that I’ve to-day sublet my rooms. In a week, Charles, I shall cast the dust of London off my feet, a victim to the British custom of primogeniture.
Charles.
Yes, sir.
Gerald.
Have you the least idea what I mean?
Charles.
Gerald.
Well, I feel certain that during some of the many leisure moments you have enjoyed in my service, you have cast an eye upon that page in Burke upon which my name figures—insignificantly.