The little stockbroker, seated on the sofa beside his large wife, made a deprecating movement of his eyebrows, as though entreating not to be asked.

Austin's cold glance roved to Dr.
Ravenshaw.
"Doctor," he said, "let me give you a whisky-and-soda." Doctor Ravenshaw shook his head.

"I have a patient to visit before dark," he said, "a lady.

I do not care to carry the smell of spirits into a sick-room." "But this is a special occasion, Ravenshaw," persisted the other.

"We do not restore a title every day." "Austin!" The voice of Mrs.Pendleton sounded from the sofa in shocked protest.
"What's the matter ?" said Austin, pausing in the act of pouring some whisky into a glass.
"It would be exceedingly improper to drink a toast at such a moment." "What's the matter with the moment ?" "The day, then.