pause. "He was devilish civil," observed the young nobleman.
"Nothing, certainly, could have been more civil," rejoined his companion.
"Littledale said his wife was great fun," said Lord Lambeth.
"Whose wife—Littledale's?"
"This American's—Mrs. Westgate. What's his name? J. L."
Beaumont was silent a moment. "What was fun to Littledale," he said at last, rather sententious, "may be death to us."
"What do you mean by that?" asked his kinsman. "I am as good a man as Littledale."
"My dear boy, I hope you won't begin to flirt," said Percy Beaumont.
"I don't care. I dare say I sha'n't begin."
"With a married woman, if she's bent upon it, it's all very well," Beaumont expounded. "But our friend mentioned a young lady—a sister, a sister-in-law. For God's sake, don't get entangled with her!"
"How do you mean entangled?"
"Depend upon it she will try to hook you."
"Oh, bother!" said Lord Lambeth.
"American girls are very clever," urged his companion.
