BELLA.--The Lady Rumble's carriage.

GEORGE.--No, it ain't: it's Captain Boxer's carriage [they run into the
garden].

TOUCHIT.--And this is the pass to which you have brought yourself,
Horace Milliken! Why, in your wife's time, it was better than this, my
poor fellow!

MILLIKEN.--Don't speak of her in THAT way, George Touchit!

TOUCHIT.--What have I said? I am only regretting her loss for our sake.
She tyrannized over you; turned your friends out of doors; took your
name out of your clubs; dragged you about from party to party, though
you can no more dance than a bear, and from opera to opera, though you
don't know "God Save the Queen" from "Rule Britannia." You don't, sir;
you know you don't. But Arabella was better than her mother, who has
taken possession of you since your widowhood.

MILLIKEN.--My dear fellow! no, she hasn't. There's MY mother.

TOUCHIT.--Yes, to be sure, there's Mrs. Bonnington, and they quarrel
over you like the two ladies over the baby before King Solomon.

MILLIKEN.--Play the satirist, my good friend! laugh at my weakness!

TOUCHIT.--I know you to be as plucky a fellow as ever stepped, Milliken,
when a man's in the case. I know you and I stood up to each other for an
hour and a half at Westminster.