'I have a ripe Pichon Longueville, '65.' 'A fine wine.

Seductive to hear of.

I dine with my friend Victor Radnor.
And he knows wine .-- There are good women in the world, Mr.Carling, whose characters...' 'Of course, of course there are; and I could name you some.

We lawyers...!' 'You encounter all sorts.' 'Between ourselves,' Carling sank his tones to the indiscriminate, where it mingled with the roar of London.
'You do ?' Fenellan hazarded a guess at having heard enlightened liberal opinions regarding the sex.

'Right!' 'Many!' 'I back you, Mr.Carling.' The lawyer pushed to yet more confidential communication, up to the verge of the clearly audible: he spoke of examples, experiences.
Fenellan backed him further.
'Acting on behalf of clients, you understand, Mr.Fenellan.' 'Professional, but charitable; I am with you.' 'Poor things! we--if we have to condemn--we owe them something.' 'A kind word for poor Polly Venus, with all the world against her! She doesn't hear it often.' 'A real service,' Carling's voice deepened to the legal 'without prejudice,'-- 'I am bound to say it--a service to Society.' 'Ah, poor wench! And the kind of reward she gets ?' 'We can hardly examine...