pardon the fuss I am making over the lad, Comyn, but his grandfather is
my very dear friend, and Richard was brought up with my daughter Dorothy.
They were like brother and sister. What, Richard, you will not take my
hand! Surely you are not so unreasonable as to hold against me that
unfortunate circumstance in Arlington Street! Yes, Dorothy has shocked
me. She has told me of it."

Comyn winked at me as I replied:--

"We shan't mention it, Mr. Manners. I have had my three weeks in prison,
and perhaps know the world all the better for them."

He held up his umbrella in mock dismay, and stumbled abruptly into a
chair. There he sat looking at me, a whimsical uneasiness on his face.
"We shall indeed mention it, sir. Three weeks in prison, to think of it!
And you would not so much as send me a line. Ah, Richard, pride is a
good thing, but I sometimes think we from Maryland have too much of it.
We shall indeed speak of the matter. Out of justice to me you must
understand how it occurred. You must know that I am deucedly
absentminded, and positively lost without my glass. And I had somebody
with me, so Dorothy said. Chartersea, I believe. And his Grace made me
think you were a cursed beggar. I make a point never to have to do with
'em."

"You are right, Mr. Manners," Comyn cut in dryly; "for I have known them
to be so persistently troublesome, when once encouraged, as to interfere
seriously with our arrangements."

"Eh!" Mr. Manners ejaculated, and then came to an abrupt pause, while I
wondered whether the shot had told. To relieve him I inquired after Mrs.