and impressively, "I want you to poison my coffee."
"Poison your coffee, my lord!" he cried, startled out of his habitual calm.
"Not at once," Lord Drewitt hastened to add. "Not immediately you hear the news, because better councils might subsequently prevail; but say on the wedding-morning, just as you are handing me my lavender trousers. It would be so effective in the newspapers. 'The third Lord Drewitt dies just as he is about to assume his wedding-trousers. 'Assume' would sound better than 'put on.' One puts on ordinary bags, Hoskins; but one 'assumes' wedding-garments."
"But lavender trousers are not—not worn now, my lord."
Lord Drewitt looked up reproachfully.
"Lavender trousers are always worn. They are Victorian, and appear in every novel and play that ever was written, or ever will be written. Good heavens! how are you to know that it's a man's wedding-day unless he indicates it by his extremities? No really nice girl would feel that she was married without lavender trousers. They are conventional, imperative, de rigueur. Women have protested against various parts of the marriage service; but never against lavender trousers. I'm quite convinced that this convention is responsible for the limited number of full-dress Scottish marriages. There is not the same glamour about lavender kilts. Why, I cannot conceive."
Lord Drewitt handed his cup to Hoskins.
