"Very like, very like," said Mr. Haveril, with distressing coldness.
He had fallen into his third manner, and his eyes were far off. He spoke mechanically.
Cousin Charles clapped his hat on his head and walked out. He was followed by the lady pew-opener, who called out after him over the broad balustrade—
"You and your respectability, indeed! Go and sweat your shop-girls! You and your respectability!"
[CHAPTER IX.]
ONE MORE.
"They are all gone, John," said Alice. "Oh, what a visit! I am ashamed! I never thought my people could have gone on so! As for Cousin Charles, he's just dreadful!"
One was left. The unfortunate bankrupt, overcome by the champagne, was asleep in his chair. John Haveril dragged him up by the collar.
"Now then, you, sir! What do you mean by going to sleep here?"