He, for his part, was not afraid to take the responsibility for anything he might have said.

It was perfectly true, to begin with.

The so-called Mrs.Lascelles, who was such a friend of mine, had been the wife of a German Jew in Lahore, who had divorced her on her elopement with a Major Lascelles, whom she had left in his turn, and whose name she had not the smallest right to bear.

Quinby exercised some restraint in the utterances of these calumnies, or the whole room must have heard them, but even as it was we had more listeners than the judge when my turn came.
"I won't give you the lie, Quinby, because I am quite sure you don't know you are telling one," said I; "but as a matter of fact you are giving currency to two.

In the first place, this lady is Mrs.Lascelles, for the major did marry her; in the second place, Major Lascelles is dead." "And how do you know ?" inquired Quinby, with a touch of genuine surprise to mitigate an insolent disbelief.
"You forget," said I, "that it was in India I knew your own informant.