Only respect for "the quality," and notably for my Lord Antony, kept his marked disapproval of the young foreigner in check.
"Nay, but this IS England, you abandoned young reprobate," interposed Lord Antony with a laugh, "and do not, I pray, bring your loose foreign ways into this most moral country." Lord Antony had already sat down at the head of the table with the Comtesse on his right.

Jellyband was bustling round, filling glasses and putting chairs straight.

Sally waited, ready to hand round the soup.
Mr.Harry Waite's friends had at last succeeded in taking him out of the room, for his temper was growing more and more violent under the Vicomte's obvious admiration for Sally.
"Suzanne," came in stern, commanding accents from the rigid Comtesse.
Suzanne blushed again; she had lost count of time and of place whilst she had stood beside the fire, allowing the handsome young Englishman's eyes to dwell upon her sweet face, and his hand, as if unconsciously, to rest upon hers.

Her mother's voice brought her back to reality once more, and with a submissive "Yes, Mama," she took her place at the supper table..