"Paul's a coward."
"Paul says they are certain to make you an Apostle."
"Eh?"
"If you don't make a fool of yourself."
"Paul said that! Why, pray, should they make me an Apostle?"
"Because there's nobody else; and people will say the race has already passed its zenith if the vacancy is not filled up at once."
"I will say this for Paul—he is well-informed as a rule."
"Wait, Wally, until you are an Apostle."
"Very well then, with the greatest possible reluctance I yield the point for the present. Verax shall wait until—Tell me, Agatha, what have you to say to me?"
The good, the noble—forgive our fervor, O ye Liberal organs of opinion, even if your bosoms be not thrilled by this whole-souled devotion to the public weal—the good and noble Shelmerdine of Potterhanworth flung the offending print upon Messrs. Maple's expensive carpet in a sudden uncontrollable access of private pique.
"Agatha." The accents of the great Proconsul were choked with emotion. "Tell me, Agatha, what you have to say to me?"
"Wally," said the Suffolk Colthurst, "what I have to say to you is this."
