"
_The Viscount_ (becoming suddenly abstracted, and turning his piece of
bread over and over in his fingers). "Now regarding--Mistress Clemency,
my dear Bev; what do you think of her?"
_Barnabas_ (helping himself to more beef). "That she is a remarkably
handsome girl!"
_The Viscount_ (frowning at his piece of bread). "Hum! d'you think so?"
_Barnabas_. "Any man would. I'll trouble you for the mustard, Dick."
_The Viscount_. "Yes; I suppose they would."
_Barnabas_. "Some probably do--especially men with an eye for fine
women."
_The Viscount_ (frowning blacker than ever). "Pray, what mean you
by that?"
_Barnabas_. "Your friend Carnaby undoubtedly does."
_The Viscount_ (starting). "Carnaby! Why what the devil put him into
your head? Carnaby's never seen her."
_Barnabas_. "Indeed, I think it rather more than likely."
_The Viscount_ (crushing the bit of bread suddenly in his fist).
"Carnaby! But I tell you he hasn't--he's never been near this place."
_Barnabas_. "There you are quite wrong."
_The Viscount_ (flinging himself back in his chair). "Beverley, what
the devil are you driving at?"
_Barnabas_.
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