In fact, Steyne's glasses were up, and he was examining some object on the stage.
"Yes, I've heard that joke about Venus's turtle and the London Tavern before--you begin to fail, my poor Wagg.

If you don't mind I shall be obliged to have a new Jester," Lord Steyne said, laying down his glass.
"Go on, Wenham, about old Pendennis." "Dear Wenham,"-- he begins, Mr.Wenham read,--"as you have had my character in your hands for the last three weeks, and no doubt have torn me to shreds, according to your custom, I think you can afford to be good-humoured by way of variety, and to do me a service.

It is a delicate matter, entre nous, une affaire de coeur.

There is a young friend of mine who is gone wild about a certain Miss Fotheringay, an actress at the theatre here, and I must own to you, as handsome a woman, and, as it appears to me, as good an actress as ever put on rouge.

She does Ophelia, Lady Teazle, Mrs.Haller--that sort of thing.