There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims. There stood John and Mr. Luck. Better come another morning. He singled out my poor husband from a crowd of other felons; and you know how right he was in that case, Sir. The passage was so narrow that there was only sufficient room for the cart to pass, with a single line of foot-soldiers on one side; and, as the walls of the bridge were covered with spectators, it was not deemed prudent to cross it till these persons were dislodged. There is Lady Arlingford’s reception to-night, ten till twelve, and the Hatton House ball, marked with a cross, sir, important. The fireplace was at the other end, with the sheeted shapes of two sofas either side. We were only—les autres. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy.
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