“For I know that you love Ennison. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick. Lord, I am sixty. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. Good looks, with a melancholy cast, always drew sentimental females. "I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. I should feel that I had been obliged to find some one else to fight my battles for me. ‘It is London’s loss, ma’am. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. ‘Certainly I can prove it.
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