It was chiefly concerned with airing his bitter grievance against Mrs.Girdlebank, of the Theatre Royal, of whom he announced himself "devilishly enamoured." He inveighed against her that she should have the gross vulgarity to love her husband, and against her husband that he should have the audacity to play the watchdog over her, and bark and growl at the duke's approach.
"A plague on all husbands, say I," ended the worthy president of the Bold Bucks.
"Nay, now, but I'm a husband myself, gad!" protested Mr.Sidney, who was quite the most delicate, mincing man of fashion about town, and one of that valetaille that hovered about his Grace of Wharton's heels.
"'Tis no matter in your case," said the duke, with that contempt he used towards his followers.

"Your wife's too ugly to be looked at." And Mr.
Sidney's fresh protest was drowned in the roar of laughter that went up to applaud that brutal frankness.

Mr.Caryll turned to the fop, who happened to be standing at his elbow.
"Never repine, man," said he.

"In the company you keep, such a wife makes for peace of mind.

To have that is to have much." Wharton resumed his railings at the Girdlebanks, and was still at them when Rotherby came in.
"At last, Charles!" the duke hailed him, rising.