Thank you, love.

(A good swing for him will be delightful.

I'll go to see it.) Helen, my dear, I'm going to give a dinner-party next week.

Of course we'll have your future--hem--I mean we'll have Sir Robert, and--let me see--who else?
Why, Oxley, the sheriff", Mr.Brown, the parson--I wish he didn't lean so much to the cursed Papists, though--Mr.Hastings, who is tarred with the same stick, it is whispered.

Well, who next?
Lord Deilmacare, a good-natured jackass--a fellow who would eat a jacketful of carrion, if placed before him, with as much _gout_ as if it were venison.