That evening Duchess Susan played at the Pharaoh table and lost eight hundred pounds, through desperation at the loss of twenty.

After encouraging her to proceed to this extremity, Caseldy checked her.

He was conducting her out of the Play room when a couple of young squires of the Shepster order, and primed with wine, intercepted her to present their condolences, which they performed with exaggerated gestures, intended for broad mimicry of the courtliness imported from the Continent, and a very dulcet harping on the popular variations of her Christian name, not forgetting her singular title, 'my lovely, lovely Dewlap!' She was excited and stunned by her immediate experience in the transfer of money, and she said, 'I 'm sure I don't know what you want.' 'Yes!' cried they, striking their bosoms as guitars, and attempting the posture of the thrummer on the instrument; 'she knows.

She does know.
Handsome Susie knows what we want.' And one ejaculated, mellifluously, 'Oh!' and the other 'Ah!' in flagrant derision of the foreign ways they produced in boorish burlesque--a self-consolatory and a common trick of the boor.
Caseldy was behind.

He pushed forward and bowed to them.