True, he is not so entertaining.' My father pressed on my arm to intimate, with a cavernous significance of eyebrow, that Captain DeWitt had the gift of repartee in perfection.
'Jorian,' said he, 'will you wager our editor declines to dine with us ?' The answer struck me as only passable.

I think it was: 'When rats smell death in toasted cheese.' Captain DeWitt sprang up the staircase of our hotel to his bedroom.
'I should not have forced him,' my father mused.

'Jorian DeWitt has at times brilliant genius, Richie--in the way of rejoinders, I mean.

This is his happy moment--his one hour's dressing for dinner.

I have watched him; he most thoroughly enjoys it! I am myself a quick or slow dresser, as the case may be.