'Sirs, will you mention to me what you want ?' He said it with a look that meant steel.

It cooled them sufficiently to let him place the duchess under the protectorship of Mr.Beamish, then entering from another room with Chloe; whereupon the pair of rustic bucks retired to reinvigorate their valiant blood.
Mr.Beamish had seen that there was cause for gratitude to Caseldy, to whom he said, 'She has lost ?' and he seemed satisfied on hearing the amount of the loss, and commissioned Caseldy to escort the ladies to their lodgings at once, observing, 'Adieu, Count!' 'You will find my foreign title of use to you here, after a bout or two,' was the reply.
'No bouts, if possibly to be avoided; though I perceive how the flavour of your countship may spread a wholesome alarm among our rurals, who will readily have at you with fists, but relish not the tricky cold weapon.' Mr.Beamish haughtily bowed the duchess away.
Caseldy seized the opportunity while handing her into her sedan to say, 'We will try the fortune-teller for a lucky day to have our revenge.' She answered: 'Oh, don't talk to me about playing again ever; I'm nigh on a clean pocket, and never knew such a sinful place as this.

I feel I've tumbled into a ditch.

And there's Mr.Beamish, all top when he bows to me.

You're keeping Chloe waiting, sir.' 'Where was she while we were at the table ?' 'Sure she was with Mr.Beamish.' 'Ah!' he groaned.
'The poor soul is in despair over her losses to-night,' he turned from the boxed-up duchess to remark to Chloe.