"Sir Roger was right! he said you were, and I could not believe it; he was quite sorry for you.

He said I had snubbed you so." "_Snubbed_ me!" reddening self-consciously, and drawing himself up as if he did not much relish the application of the word.

"I do not often give any one the chance of doing that _twice_!" "You are not going to be offended _again_, I suppose," say I, apprehensively; "it must be with Sir Roger this time, if you are! it was he that was sorry for you, not _I_." We look at each other under my green sun-shade (his eyes _are_ hazel, by daylight), and then we both burst into a duet of foolish friendly laughter.
"I want you to give me your advice," say I, as we toddle amicably along, side by side.

"What would be a nice present for a gentleman--an elderly gentleman--at least _rather_ elderly, who _has_ a spectacle-case, a pocket-book, an inkstand, six Church services, and who does not smoke." "But he _does_ smoke," says Mr.Musgrave, correcting me.

"I _saw_ him the other day." "Saw _whom_?
What--do you mean ?" "Are not you talking of Sir Roger ?" he asks, with an accent of surprise.
"_Sir Roger!_" (indignantly).