“Who is the charmer now, Thomas? Does she tread the light fantastic toe in the ballet at the Empire, or does she carol in a Gaiety chorus?”
“I have an idea that your brother Theodore is mildly facetious to-day,” said the other gravely to Lady Sophia.
The Canon burst out laughing and jovially rubbed his hands.
“You must marry money, my boy.”
“I would like a shot if I could. What I object to is marryin’ a wife.”
“One can never get money in this world without some drawback.”
Lord Spratte looked at his brother with a dry smile.
“How green and yellow you’d turn, Theodore, if I did marry!”
“My dear Thomas, there’s nothing that would please me more. You will do me the justice to acknowledge that I have frequently impressed upon you the desirability of marriage. I look upon it as a duty you owe to your family.”
“And has the heir presumptive never in imagination fitted on his handsome head the coronet, nor draped about himself picturesquely the ermine robes? Oh, what a humbug you are, Theodore!”