I invite you to have dinner with me--or lunch, as I suppose you would call it, in your aristocratic language.' 'No, you had better have lunch with me.

Come to my club.' 'Confound your impudence! Am I not your father in mathematics ?' 'Be so good as to put on a decent pair of trousers, and brush your hair.

Ah, here is your Trilinear production.

I'll look over it whilst you make yourself presentable.' 'There's a bad misprint in the Preface.

Let me show you--' 'It's all the same to me, my dear fellow.' But Micklethwaite was not content until he had indicated the error, and had talked for five minutes about the absurdities that it involved.
'How do you suppose I got the thing published ?' he then asked.