“Lady Lundie,” he answered, “you read me like a book.” To the astonishment of all persons present under forty he emphasized those words by laying his hand on his heart, and quoting poetry. “I may say with Dryden,” added the gallant old gentleman:
“‘Old as I am, for ladies’ love unfit,
The power of beauty I remember yet.’”
Lady Lundie looked unaffectedly shocked. Mr. Delamayn went a step farther. He interfered on the spot—with the air of a man who feels himself imperatively called upon to perform a public duty.
“Dryden never said that,” he remarked, “I’ll answer for it.”
Sir Patrick wheeled round with the help of his ivory cane, and looked Mr. Delamayn hard in the face.
“Do you know Dryden, Sir, better than I do?” he asked.
The Honorable Geoffrey answered, modestly, “I should say I did. I have rowed three races with him, and we trained together.”
Sir Patrick looked round him with a sour smile of triumph.
“Then let me tell you, Sir,” he said, “that you trained with a man who died nearly two hundred years ago.”
Mr. Delamayn appealed, in genuine bewilderment, to the company generally: