'I wonder what it means.' 'Who is this Mr.Egremont ?' asked Mrs.Grail.
'He belongs to the firm of Egremont & Pollard, so Ackroyd tells me.

You know that big factory in Westminster Bridge Road--where they make oil-cloth.' Gilbert was perusing the printed syllabus; it interested him, and he kept it by his plate when he sat down to dinner.
'Do you think of going ?' his mother inquired.
'Well, I should like to, if the lectures are good.

I suppose he's a young fellow fresh from college.

He may have something to say, and he may be only conceited; there's no knowing.

Still, I don't dislike the way he writes.