"
"Now in regard to Sir Mortimer Carnaby," persisted Barnabas,
"your father, it would seem, neither likes nor trusts him."
"My father, sir, is--a father, consequently perverse. Sir Mortimer
Carnaby is my friend, therefore, though my father has never met Sir
Mortimer Carnaby, he takes a mortal antipathy to Sir Mortimer Carnaby,
Q.E.D., and all the rest of it."
"On the other hand," pursued Barnabas the steadfast-eyed,
"you--admire, respect, and honor your friend Sir Mortimer Carnaby!"
"Admire him, sir, who wouldn't? There isn't such another all-round
sportsman in London--no, nor England. Only last week he drove
cross-country in his tilbury over hedges and ditches, fences and all,
and never turned a hair. Beat the 'Fighting Tanner' at Islington in
four rounds, and won over ten thousand pounds in a single night's
play from Egalite d'Orleans himself. Oh, egad, sir! Carnaby's the
most wonderful fellow in the world!"
"Though a very indifferent boxer!" added Barnabas.
"Indiff--!" His Lordship let fall the last fragments of his bread
and meat, and stared at Barnabas in wide-eyed amazement. "Did you
say--indifferent?"
"I did," nodded Barnabas, "he is much too passionate ever to make a
good boxer.
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