"
"Ah!" said Barnabas.
"And since the retirement of Mr. Brummell, he and the Marquis of
Jerningham have to some extent taken his place and become the
Arbiters of Fashion."
"Oh!" said Barnabas.
"And furthermore, sir, I would warn you that he is a dangerous enemy,
said to be one of the best pistol-shots in England."
"Hum," said Barnabas, "nevertheless, I mean to begin--"
"To begin, sir?"
"At once, Peterby."
"But--how, sir?"
"That is for you to decide, Peterby."
"Me, sir?"
"You, Peterby."
Here Peterby took himself by the chin again, and looked at Barnabas
with thoughtful eyes and gloomy brow.
"Sir," said he, "the World of Fashion is a trivial world where all
must appear trivial; it is a place where all must act a part, and
where those are most regarded who are most affected; it is a world
of shams and insincerity, and very jealously guarded."
"So I have heard," nodded Barnabas.
"To gain admission you must, first of all, have money."
"Yes," said Barnabas.
"Birth--if possible."
"Hum," said Barnabas.
"Wit and looks may be helpful, but all these are utterly useless
unless you have what I may call the magic key.
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