The things we do!

How do you do, Mr. Smee?"
Mr. Smee smiles his sweetest smile. With his rings, diamond shirt-studs,
and red velvet waistcoat, there are few more elaborate middle-aged bucks
than Alfred Smee. "How do you do, my dear lord?" cries the bland one.
"Who would ever have thought of seeing your lordship here?"
"Why the deuce not, Mr. Smee?" asks Lord Kew, abruptly. "Is it wrong to
come here? I have been in the house only five minutes, and three people
have said the same thing to me--Mrs. Newcome, who is sitting downstairs
in a rage waiting for her carriage, the condescending Barnes, and
yourself. Why do you come here, Since? How are you, Mr. Gandish? How do
the fine arts go?"
"Your lordship's kindness in asking for them will cheer them if anything
will," says Mr. Gandish. "Your noble family has always patronised them. I
am proud to be reckonised by your lordship in this house, where the
distinguished father of one of my pupils entertains us this evening. A
most promising young man is young Mr.


Pages:
422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441 442 443 444 445 446