And then he began to ask how many minutes it wanted to dinner-time.
Mrs.Townsend knew his ways.

She would not have a ghost of a chance of getting from him a true and substantial account of what had really passed if she persevered in direct questions to the effect.

So she pretended to drop the matter, and went and fetched her lord's slippers, the putting on of which constituted his evening toilet; and then, after some little hurrying inquiry in the kitchen, promised him his dinner in fifteen minutes.
"Was Herbert Fitzgerald there ?" "Oh yes; he is always there.

He's a nice young fellow; a very fine young fellow; but--" "But what ?" "He thinks he understands the Irish Roman Catholics, but he understands them no more than--than--than this slipper," he said, having in vain cudgelled his brain for a better comparison.
"You know what Aunt Letty says about him.

She doubts he isn't quite right, you know." Mrs.Townsend by this did not mean to insinuate that Herbert was at all afflicted in that way which we attempt to designate, when we say that one of our friends is not all right, and at the same time touch our heads with our forefinger.